


Killer Instinct

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gore, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo is a young detective with his own personal demons assigned to the homicide team for a serial murder case hunting down the 'Rokuban Killer'. He soon finds out that the both of them share a lot of things in common than he initially thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from FF.net. This was first published in mid 2010. Posting it over here just to at least have something in my AO3 works list. I'd also like to think this piece is my personal best, before I fell out of writing from losing my mojo. Hope you'd pardon the mistakes I've made - eg. the flawed psychiatric and police terms/systems used, grammar etc (there's only so much google and mainstream TV could do) - and enjoy the story! :)

An attractive blue-haired man, dressed in a dark grey hoodie and navy undershirt, was sitting alone at a table in a crowded bar. The bar was dimly lit, with music playing some 90s rock from the jukebox drowned by the crowd’s chatter. He was staring at another man at the other end of the bar. The man was younger, fit and had an athletic figure. The younger man hadn’t noticed him – couldn’t notice him among the crowd. The blue-haired one slowly finished his drink before making his way to the man.

“Hey, ya alone?” He struck a conversation easily with smooth and innocent words. Cheesy, but it was amazing how it actually works.

“Yeah, just wanted to drink,” the guy replied and smiled the moment he took in the other’s features. So easy. “You?”

“Same here,” the blue-haired man responded with a charming grin. “Say, do ya work out or do some fighting? Ya got some pretty nice muscles there.” The blue-haired man asked and his bright blue eyes raked over the other man’s arms. The younger man grinned at him and touched his arm indiscreetly, showing no qualms of holding back.

“Yeah, some boxing. Think I’m pretty good at it too. Won some medals in some minor competitions,” the nameless man said smugly and mocked a stance.  “Ya like fighting?”

“Love it,” the blue haired man replied with a glint in his eye. He either liked being dominated or vice versa. It didn't matter. 

The younger man seemed to appreciate the company, but the blue-haired one had other ideas. He could tell what kind of work one does from the shape of their body. The structure, the built, the muscles.  From all that boxing training that the young man boasted, he could see that he really did work out a lot. The blue haired man smiled; this man was the right one. 

He then leaned forward to speak into the nameless one’s ear, “Wanna go some place quiet? It’s too crowded and noisy here.” The blue-haired man leaned a little closer, lips touching the other’s ear while he placed his hand on his shoulder to seal the deal, and the younger man seemed to lose his breath. 

“Yes,” the younger man replied breathily. The blue-haired man grinned. _Too easy._ He stood up and headed for the exit, knowing that the young man would follow him. 

Strangely, no one noticed the blue panther that was leading his next prey out the door.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Kurosaki Ichigo grumbled to himself when he was roused from his much needed sleep by the ringing of his cell phone. He looked at his clock. 6:15 am. Running a hand through his orange hair, he picked the phone up grudgingly, and managed to stop himself from snapping at the person on the other line.

“Kurosaki-san? I think we have a new one here,” Urahara’s annoying sing-song voice spoke to him through the phone’s receiver. Ichigo sighed. Another one already? What the hell, Ichigo thought, he just solved one murder case earlier, which he was trying to recover some sleep from. “This time it’s a pretty big case… We have a serial killer.”

Ichigo immediately perked up at that and uttered his reply. His captain aka boss continued by telling him the address and hung up, his unsaid words already pushing Ichigo off his bed so that he could get to the crime scene as soon as possible. Good thing it wasn’t that far off from his place. He quickly went to wash his face and slip on his pants before grabbing his badge and coat and heading out his small apartment door. Giving out another sigh, Ichigo ran down the stairs and readied himself for a major case.

When he finally reached the crime scene half an hour later, there was a small group poking their noses around the police tape which blocked the entrance of a narrow alley, where the police officers vainly kept on informing them to back away. It was a small, shady part of Karakura and it was early in the morning, so fortunately they didn’t get that much attention. Ichigo hated going through crowds of on-lookers just to get to the police tape. The orange-haired man gingerly walked past the people, ducked under the tape and flashed his badge to the crowd controlling officer before he proceeded to meet the sandy-haired man who was standing by the covered body. The CSIs were already there examining the area.

“Urahara-san,” Ichigo greeted. The man turned to him, his face looking a little haggard than he had seen him before. His stubble had grown and he had darker circles round his eyes. “I think you need more sleep.”

“I think we all need more sleep,” Urahara replied him with a tired grin. Ichigo could only agree. He himself had barely gotten an hour of sleep before Urahara had rung him up for this case. Urahara nodded to the direction of the covered body and filled Ichigo in. “Motorist walked here to take a piss, saw the body… wet his pants instead and called the cops.”

“That bad huh?” Ichigo asked. Without waiting for a reply, he knelt down and took a peek under the cover, and what he saw sent him backing up and suppressing the bile in his throat. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s what the cover was for,” Urahara said with an amused smirk.

“Ugh, I can take it… Just that it was kinda sudden… Didn’t expect it to be _that_ bad,” Ichigo said with a deeply disgusted frown and calmed his nerves.  “How long has he been dead? And cause of death?”

“The coroner said approximately six or seven hours,” Urahara replied. “And a slash to the throat.” Ichigo nodded, still trying to recuperate from the shock.

After a minute he walked back to the body of the victim – male – which was laying on his stomach but his head was facing to the side with lifeless eyes wide open from what seemed like shock. He was also covered in bruises, along with a deep large slash that traced the middle of the neck. What sent bile up his throat wasn’t that but the large gaping hole in the lower part of the man’s stomach. The insides were cleaned out; the stomach and intestines were gone. It was almost expertly done, probably practiced even. Ichigo felt a strange feeling rising inside him but ignored him. He then noticed that the bruises were on the man’s face as well and appeared to have been punched several times, as if having been in a fist fight. The victim seemed to be young, probably mid twenties, had an athletic built and decent looks that was accompanied by clean cut hair. His clothes - a plain tee and slim jeans – were not removed; the top was just hiked up to show the missing torso, and the wallet was still in the back pocket. Ichigo checked it and noted that money was still in it. Money was clearly not the motive. Well, who the hell would cut a hole in someone just for money in the first place? The orange haired man’s eyes studied the body carefully and immediately noticed something on the victim’s lower back by the gaping hole.

“Saw it?” Urahara asked from behind him. Ichigo nodded and inched closer. It was the number six, carved deep into the flesh. It was most likely done with the murder weapon. “That’s his signature.”

“Okay…” Ichigo breathed. “Has his organs been found?”

“No. I suspect the killer either dumped it somewhere far away or the more usual case, he brought it back with him as a trophy,” Urahara told him. Ichigo folded his arms and stared at the body, feeling slightly sick again. 

“From the bruises, the guy probably got bashed up and when he was down, the killer went for the finisher. Then he did his… thing,” Ichigo uncomfortably shifted as he glanced at the gaping hole in the torso. “Brought the body out here, since it’s obviously constructed from the way the victim is lying down and there’s not much blood here. “

“Good,” Urahara smiled. “Anything else?”

“Looks like the whole thing’s got its own symbolism – the open eyes, the slash to the neck, the hole…” Ichigo muttered more to himself. “…And this is definitely not the first time he’s done this.” Urahara nodded.

“It isn’t,” the Captain said. “This is his fourth, though it’s highly likely that the first body found wasn’t the real first either.”

“What? You mean there’s a serial killer on the loose all this while?” Ichigo asked him in disbelief. “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“I’ll let Abarai-san explain that,” Urahara said tiredly as he nodded his head to someone behind Ichigo before going off to talk to a CSI.

“Oi, Ichigo!” Ichigo turned. A bright red haired man with shades on his forehead ducked under the tape and walked towards him.

“Hey Renji, what brings you here?” Ichigo asked after a simple nod of greeting.

“I’m on this case too,” Renji replied as he peeked over Ichigo’s shoulder and grimaced at the glimpse of the body he caught.

“All the way from the other side of town?"

“Yeah, well, the killer apparently has either killed or dumped bodies all over Karakura, so the whole town is involved,” Renji told him. “I’ve been sent here by Kuchiki-taichou to assist your station.”

“Byakuya? Why?” Ichigo asked dumbly. His sleepiness was making him ask questions rather than think.

“Your station’s gonna be the headquarters for the homicide team which is gonna attend to this case,” Renji said. “Jeez, man, you need more sleep.”

“I know,” Ichigo yawned. “Though having seen the victim woke me up a bit.” Renji stepped by Ichigo and took a peek under the covers. He gave the same reaction as Ichigo did earlier but managed to recover from it faster than he did.

“…Yep, exactly like the other victims,” Renji sighed and rubbed his hand all over his face tiredly.

“Right, how come I’ve never heard of this serial killer again?” Ichigo asked after remembering the unanswered question that was initially directed to his captain. He looked over to Urahara who was still talking to some CSIs.

“You were busy with your own case, and we just found out about this guy recently. We found his first victim half a year ago,” Renji told him. “Then other precincts found more bodies with the same signature, and they seem to have been laid out in the open for people to find. All of us think he’s now trying to get attention. Officers’ been calling him the ‘Rokuban (number six) killer’.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious where that name came from,” Ichigo responded.

“I’ll go report to Urahara-san first, you go do your stuff,” Renji said and patted him on the shoulder before leaving. Ichigo nodded and began to look around, studying the environment and then observing the small crowd that had dissipated slightly. That was when he noticed someone standing one block away from the crime scene staring intently at him. The man was just standing there, leaning against a sign post and though Ichigo could hardly see him, he thought the man had a rather arrogant and smug air around him, from what Ichigo could see from his body language. Ichigo squinted and tried to get a good look at the man and from where Ichigo was, the man appeared to be tall and rather built, but Ichigo couldn’t catch any distinctive features. The man was too far away and the darkness of the night and dim light posts didn’t help. Before Ichigo could move to take a closer look, the man turned and left.

“Kurosaki-san!” Urahara called him, with Renji standing by him. Ichigo’s head snapped back to look at him with an annoyed expression. “What are you doing?”

“No… nothing,” Ichigo said and went back to where his boss was.

“Well, Abarai-san here will pass you some files on the previous victims, so get back to the station and get to it, ASAP. I’m counting on you Kurosaki-san, Abarai-san!” Urahara patted him on his shoulder and walked off. He turned slightly as he walked, to add, “Oh, and there should be some other detectives coming in to aid in the investigation!”

“And where are you going?” Ichigo asked.

“Sleep!”

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo snapped his head up when he heard a loud banging noise and squinted his eyes as he tried to clear his vision. He looked around and remembered where he was. He had apparently dozed off on his desk that was covered in paper work and case files. It had only been 5 hours since he woke up to get to the crime scene but yet it felt like 5 days have gone. As he recollected his memory, four figures stood in front of his desk and Ichigo rubbed his eyes. One was a bald man with a scowl; an effeminate looking man with short straight hair; and a small woman with short hair and large dark eyes.

“Ikkaku, Yumichika… and… Rukia?” Ichigo asked drowsily. He still wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming.

“Wake up, Ichigo!” Rukia said and slammed her hand onto the top of Ichigo’s desk, causing the orange haired to jolt up and blink himself awake. “We’re here to aid in the investigation of the ‘Rokuban Killer’.”

Ichigo blinked. Urahara had told him about a bunch of detectives coming in for the investigation, but didn’t expect this bunch. Despite being detectives, they were a rowdy bunch and always seemed so carefree. They headed towards Renji’s desk which was a few seats away and already making a lot of noise as they woke their colleague up. But Ichigo knew they were skilled in their field. They were sent by the captains from all over Karakura’s police branches, after all. Kuchiki Rukia – sister of Renji’s captain Kuchiki Byakuya, and a detective under Captain Ukitake Jyuushirou’s precinct; and Ikkaku Madarame and Ayasegawa Yumichika  - the strange but very capable duo of brute force under the notorious Captain Zaraki Kenpachi. Ichigo had known Renji and Rukia since they were in the police academy, and had met Ikkaku and Yumichika a bit later at a gathering for the whole police force. They were all pretty tight, and having them all gathered here for an investigation would certainly make it interesting. It would be the first, but Ichigo was looking forward to taking this unidentified subject of a serial killer down together.

“Ah, right, Urahara-san told me…  Lemme wash my face first, you guys can ask Renji for a debrief of this morning’s victim. I think he’s also sleeping at his desk,” Ichigo told them.

Ichigo entered the empty restroom and quickly turned the tap on. He splashed some water on his face and rested his palms on the sides of the sink. He avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror in front of him, but he felt the pull to just look. There, in his reflection, he saw it. The darker side of himself. A side he hated, and even feared. Seeing the victim last night must have stirred him up, and going through descriptions and photos of the old murder cases was affecting him again. Ichigo was pretty used to this – or so he thought. He had been aware of this side since young, but he knew how to control it. He knew what was right and wrong. He knew he wasn’t meant to submit to this darker side of himself.

His job required him to think like a killer. Thinking like a killer was easy – almost everyone would have thought about killing or acting violently towards another living thing at least once in their lifetime, no matter how much they deny it. But what scared Ichigo the most was that sometimes he felt the pull of that desire. With that tiny little voice in the back of his head, whispering things to him; to fight, to hurt, to _kill_ – every time he looked at the victims and read the autopsy reports by the coroner. What was it like to be the one taking the victim’s life? The thrill of killing someone, the high the killers get when they perform such atrocities. He had wondered about them ever since young. But he wasn’t a killer. Ichigo had tried to convince himself that he wasn’t capable of such a thing. Such a blatant lie would never sink in, though. And the little voice in his head laughed and agreed.

Admittedly Ichigo felt a little nervous being sent to take on this case. Excited, yes, but he feared he would get too excited. He had felt the excitement when he was at the crime scene then – that desire to be in the killer’s shoes had risen as he looked at the gaping hole in the victim’s stomach. How did it feel to dig that knife into the victim’s flesh, cut his throat and see the life and blood drain out of his body?

Ichigo shuddered at his own thoughts and willed them away. He turned away from his reflection and exited the restroom to get back to work.

“Ichigo, you okay? You don’t look too good,” Rukia asked when Ichigo reached the meeting table that the group had moved to. Ichigo shook his head and sipped on the coffee that he had grabbed before coming to the table.

“The victims making ya sick?” Ikkaku asked as he looked through the crime scene photos.

“Disgusting,” Yumichika chipped in with great distaste.

“It really was,” Renji answered. “But anyway, Ichigo, I’ve told them very briefly what we know so far. Evidence has been sent to forensics, body’s with the coroner, and now we’re just waiting for Urahara to be here and give us another brief for the investigation.”

“But didn’t he go back home to sleep?”

“You think he can when he’s in charge of the team investigating this serial killer?” Renji replied and Ichigo kept quiet when he saw his point.

And speak of the devil, the man himself entered the room just as Renji ended his sentence. The man looked a little more refreshed but hadn’t shaved the stubble off, so he still looked as messy. He had a pile of papers with him, which he set onto the table by the computer with a heavy thump. Urahara Kisuke was a genius, and also his personal mentor since the man was closely acquainted with his father. He had heard that the man was quite the legend in Karakura’s police force. It was an honor for Ichigo to be directly under him, he guessed, but sometimes he found the man so eccentric and playful he wondered whether the people who called Urahara a legend were bullshitting him. But Ichigo had seen the genius at work, so he couldn’t really deny it either.

“Ahh seems like you guys are all ready, should we start?” Urahara began with his usual sing-song voice. He started anyway without needing an answer. “Right. Let me start with a welcome to you guys. All of you were picked by captains all over Karakura and even screened by Yamamoto-soutaichou to lead this case. Just so you know, this is our very first serial killer case in a very long time. This may be your first exposure to serial cases, but just like every other case, it’s a race against time to track him down before he can get another victim. We will still get a lot of help from the other captains and detectives, so do not get excited, reckless or too involved in it, just because it is a big case. Once you get too excited, you will break down, and I do not need a broken detective on the case. Understood?”

Everyone agreed silently. Ichigo noticed that Urahara was staring at him as he mentioned the warnings but ignored it. The captain started his presentation slides on the computer which popped up on the projector screen.

“So, we officially found Mr. Number 6’s first victim half a year ago. And from then on, we found 2 others with yesterday being another one, which makes the total number of victims as four. From the investigation on the previous cases, we’ve already established an obvious pattern from the killer - his M.O. and when his victims are to be found.” Urahara showed the team a list of dates on when the victims were found. “Lookie here, our suspect really likes the number six,” Urahara pointed out. “He doesn’t kill his victims on any date with the number 6, but he _places them for the public to find_ on any date with the number 6. So far none of them are killed six days after the other, usually a few weeks after but in a worst case scenario… He just might.”

Urahara clicked on the mouse and photos of the victims popped up. Most of them were focused on the slash to the neck, the gaping hole and the carved 6 on the flesh of the victim. The whole team grew uncomfortable, with Yumichika and Rukia looking like they were going to puke.

“The killer’s signature,” Urahara simply said. “All four victims’ C.O.D were the slitting of the throat, and all of them were mutilated this way after their death – their stomach carved out, along with the intestines. And of course, the slanted number 6 by the side. The organs were never found so it’s highly likely they were kept as trophies.”

Urahara clicked on the mouse again and more photos popped up, this time, on the bruises that were all over the victims’ bodies. “Now, the _modus operandi_ of Mr. 6 here is pretty unusual,” Urahara began.

“Are those bruises… pre-mortem? And from some kind of fight?” Rukia inquired as she studied the photos on the projector screen.

“That’s right, Kuchiki-san,” Urahara replied with a smile. “Apparently these bruises were from a physical fight just before they died. All victims are physically fit men trained in hand to hand combat. Some even have weapons on them. They were perfectly capable of defending themselves…”

“And yet they still fall prey to the predator,” Ichigo muttered. Everyone looked at him, even Urahara, who just raised an eyebrow with interest.

“…Moving on,” Urahara continued but his eyes didn’t leave Ichigo. “This killer apparently seems to be seeking a thrill in getting victims who can actually fight back. He separates the victims from the crowd – which are usually from the bars that he apparently frequents – starts a physical fight with them before finally killing them by slashing their throat.”

“Then he starts that sick Jack the Ripper crap,” Ikkaku added.

“Yes, something like Jack the Ripper I suppose,” Urahara said. “We are unsure whether these victims are the only victims that our killer has. It’s highly unlikely, since these victims were moved into very obvious areas where they are bound to be found. If he does have other victims, we probably won’t find it because he doesn’t want us to find it. We’ve already had a hard time looking for the original crime scenes as well, which is why so far we don’t have many clues to go by.”

Rukia raised her hand. “Yes, Kuchiki-san?”

“So are these killings motivated by a sexual fetish of some sort?”Rukia asked. Like a studious student, she was actually taking down notes as the briefing went on. That was probably why she was one of the better detectives.

“Probably,” Urahara became pensive. “We found no signs of sexual activity, not even violation of the privates or traces of semen but then again… Some men experience sexual pleasure in the act of violence itself.” Rukia nodded and jotted it down on her notebook. Ichigo pondered on that strange fact while Rukia asked another question. “Do we have a profile on him yet?”

“I’m getting to it,” Urahara smiled. He clicked on the mouse again and the projector gave a list on the profile information gathered so far. “To summarize it, the No. 6 Killer is a process-focused serial killer with a thrill seeking drive. His murder weapon appears to be the same throughout – a military combat knife, and though we have taken into consideration that he possibly has military experience, we also have to consider that he may have acquired the knife elsewhere. We still have much more to cover before we can get a complete profile and that job is handed to you guys.” The team shifted in their seat. “Well, any questions?”

This time Ichigo raised his hand. “Kurosaki-san?”

“I read in one of the reports for the previous victims that there was someone with blue hair hanging around with the victim,” Ichigo said. “And there was another mention of blue hair with another victim.”

“Oh?” Urahara looked sincerely surprised by that.

“But there’s the possibility that he’s just a regular of the bars. And there’s a lot of people dying their hair,” Yumichika said skeptically.

“Then we can perhaps check out a list of anyone with dyed hair? Natural blue hair even?” Ichigo asked.

“It’s just blue hair, Ichigo,” Renji told him. “Just like you with orange and mine with red.” Ichigo took slight offence in that comment, not about the hair, but the implication that his point was not important. But well, it was true. There was no basis that it was the same man with blue hair. But Ichigo just had the feeling that there was something about it. It isn’t everyday that you see someone with blue hair.

“Then I’ll use my own time to search it,” Ichigo said stubbornly.

“Alright then, but don’t forget to keep me posted, Kurosaki-san, you’re pretty reckless when it comes to catching the suspects once you know their identities,” Urahara reminded. Ichigo nodded with tightly pressed lips. “Right, now we can start the investigation proper. Do your thing you guys, you don’t need me to tell you the routine work you do for every case. Kuchiki-san and Ayasegawa-san, you’re in charge of looking through missing persons and interviewing. Kurosaki-san, Ikkaku-san and Abarai-san, keep up the paperwork and check through the list of ex-convicts. Don’t forget to contact the forensic examiners like Ishida-san for the evidence reports. Just remember to keep each other and especially me, informed on what you have found out so that we can tie things together. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the team replied.

“Alright, dismissed~” Urahara said a little bit too cheerfully. As the team stood up, Urahara added, “Oh, Kurosaki-san? You’ll have to help me in getting a psychological profile from the psychiatrist.” Ichigo groaned but nodded. He never liked psychiatrists. He’d had a bad experience with them. Trying not to think about it, the orange-haired man stretched and wanted to go for a refill of coffee when an officer entered the room.

“Excuse me detectives… but I think we found the organs of last night’s victim. “And he’s left a message,” the officer announced. Ichigo felt a chill run up his spine at the mention of contact from the killer. The voice in his head snickered, and in the rare event, spoke to him.

_Let’s go see what Mr. Rokuban has to say, aibou._


	2. Chapter 2

The moment the team reached the area, it had been closed off, but the usual crowd of nosy on-lookers surrounded it. It was another alley, similar to the one that the most recent victim had been found at. It also wasn’t too far off from said area, and that meant the killer had visited the dump site. Ichigo took it down as a mental note and followed Urahara as the team walked around it and approached the crime scene investigator who was working on processing the evidence. Ichigo noticed the bloody mess before the crouched man who was busy writing on his clipboard. They were definitely organs, dumped at the side with a bloody writing of two foreign words on the wall above it. Ichigo could make out that the words appeared to be in Spanish, and then the signature of the number six below it. Renji was the one to step forward and speak.

“Kira?” Renji called. The blond, gloomy looking man turned around and recognized Renji immediately.

“Abarai-san?” the investigator looked surprised. The rest of the detective team noticed the man and greeted him as well. Ichigo, though just watched them. Apparently these guys knew each other. Now that he thought about it, he just remembered that he was the only outsider in the group of police academy graduates. The rest of them seem to know each other before entering the school. He felt a little lonely then, but he figured he should be used to it. It had been that way for a long time after all.

“So, Kira, what do you have here? Animal or human organs?” Renji asked.

“We got a call for this an hour ago. We’ve clarified that they’re human organs, possibly from last night’s victim because they’re still not at a bad stage of decomposition. We’ll match with the DNA later. I found that it’s been refrigerated, and the cold weather here affected its state, so it might take a bit more time for me to calculate when this was placed here.”

“Uh, Kira-san?” Ichigo spoke up the first time he got there. Everyone looked at him. “Do you know what the writing in blood says?” Ichigo pointed to the wall.

“Well it’s in Spanish, and I don’t know the language and neither does anyone in the place, so I’d have to get back to get the translation,” Kira replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll take photos, get the words and translation, and send them to all of you.”

“Thanks,” Ichigo told him with a slight smile.

“Keep us posted, will ya?” Renji said. Kira nodded and gave a smile as he got back to work. The rest of the team too, doing what they had been assigned to do. Ichigo meanwhile went to observe the crowd of on-lookers. He didn’t want to look at the blood or the organs too long. It might make him… _itch_. He distracted himself with his work and scoured the crowd that was about a hundred feet away from him.

Some criminals mix in the crowd to watch the reaction of on-lookers, or to watch the authorities. For this crowd… he saw no one suspicious in particular. Everyone was just trying to have a look at the bloody mess. ‘What was wrong with people?’ Ichigo shook his head with a frown. ‘But then again, I’m probably the most fucked up one.’

But just as he was about to look away from the people, a lone figure amidst the crowd stopped Ichigo in his tracks and got his attention. The man wasn’t doing anything in particular, just standing and watching. He looked normal too. He was quite tall, and wore a dark baggy pullover and jeans, and had the hood up along with a trucker cap covering his head. Ichigo saw sharp features on his face, but couldn’t really get a good look with other people in the crowd moving their heads all over just to take a look at the crime scene. But Ichigo could at least make out his expression. He looked too calm, almost disinterested with that deep scowl on his face, yet he stood there watching intently. Occasionally something seemed to have caught his attention and his lips twitched up into what seemed like a smile. He even had that arrogant air around him.

 _Wait_. Ichigo’s eyes widened as he recalled the crime scene that morning. He walked towards the crowd quickly. “Excuse me sir!” A number of heads looked at him, but not the man. “Sir! The one with the hoodie!” Ichigo called out. The man turned to look at him. Sharp nose and chin, high cheekbones and… icy cold blue eyes. Ichigo motioned to the man to come to him. The man narrowed his eyes at him, and Ichigo felt a surge of annoyance running through him from the man’s expression. Ichigo motioned at him to come forward, but the man didn’t move. Instead, he just stared at Ichigo for a moment before his lips split into a malicious grin. Like a predator that had found its prey. Ichigo froze up for some reason.

 _It’s him!_ The voice in his head said excitedly.

The man with the cap began to step back and walk away, disappearing almost instantly into the crowd. Ichigo got back to his senses. “Shit!” He began to move and tried to go to the back of the crowd, hoping to find the man exiting or at least running away from the crowd. But he wasn’t. Ichigo looked around, but everyone looked almost the same. There were no distinctive features that Ichigo could follow to separate him from the crowd. Except for those eyes and that grin. It actually struck some sort of fear in him but it wasn’t just fear stirring inside him, but excitement. Ichigo stared at his trembling hand.

“Ichigo?” Someone had tapped the orange-haired man on his shoulder and Ichigo stepped back, startled. Rukia looked at him with concern. “Are you okay, Ichigo? You’ve been looking so pale ever since we got here. Did your last case drain you that much? Or is it this case?”

“No, I…” Ichigo sighed. “I’m just tired. And I haven’t eaten, so I’m getting shaky.” Rukia didn’t seem to buy it. She was the closest one to him ever since the academy, and he sometimes didn’t like that she had that uncanny ability to read his mind.

“Tell me, Ichigo,” Rukia demanded. Ichigo shook his head.

“I’m serious. I’m very tired,” Ichigo told her firmly. Rukia seemed to relent.

“Fine, but tell Urahara to cut you some slack if you’re really that exhausted,” Rukia scolded lightly. “…Remember I’ve got your back, Ichigo. And so does Renji, Ikkaku and Yumichika.” Ichigo smiled slightly. Rukia went back to her duties, while Ichigo decided he’d have to tell Urahara about this.

 

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

He was having fun. People were aghast, some disgusted, some terrified. Even some of the police look shaken. He smiled slightly. But it was only a glimpse of what he’d been doing. He hadn’t shown them all of the skeletons in the closet. And he was saying that literally.

The blue haired man was watching the show the police were putting on that day. He had put on his usual clothes but was careful not to forget to cover his hair. He didn’t mind the attention he got from it, but sometimes it was inconvenient. Now he was just to be some by-stander watching the police investigating the mere organs that he’d dumped at some dirty corner. If they were so interested, he had more from where that came from. But then came along a bunch of weird looking group of people. One was bald, the other an effeminate looking one with a bob hairdo, a crimson haired one with tattoos, a small dark-haired woman and an orange haired man. He’d seen the latter from last night. And from what he knew, the man was a detective. He’d seen him before in the papers, for being a talented crime buster despite his young age. How interesting. Perhaps he was part of the team that was gathered to investigate his case just as the news had reported? He smirked at their attempt to track him. He was a skilled predator. He’d left nothing behind.

He considered giving them more clues. Four bodies was not even a scratch on the surface, and this dumping was just for fun. The words he wrote there didn’t even really mean anything. Just a simple taunt for them to get excited about. He watched the blond CSI work on the organs intently and wondered what the hell he can get from such a thing. Only thing they would find out is that who it belonged to but not where it came from.

Then he heard someone shouting. He looked to his right and saw that orange-haired man looking straight at him. He beckoned him to where he was. He wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t do such a thing. But he took the opportunity to have a good look at the man’s face.

He was young, slightly tanned and that bright orange hair was actually breath-taking when the strands were caught in the early afternoon sun. His features were boyish, but handsome and matured as well. He could see, even with the clothes and the coat that the younger man was fit, lean and was trained to fight. He could tell from the hands, the shoulders, the chest. And what he liked most was the orange haired man’s expression. It was a scowl yet his brown eyes just burned with something he didn’t understand. But he also recognized what those eyes and expression were hiding. And that was what had him hooked. He didn’t mean to, but he felt himself smile at the younger man, causing the other’s expression to change into something like realization, fear and… there was something unidentifiable as well. Like relief or recognition. As if he had just seen someone just like him.

He felt a rush of excitement run through him. The urge was rising, but it was far too soon. He began to back away, to blend into the crowd and he watched as the orange haired man panicked and chased after him but he was too late. He’d disappear and no one would ever see him again. Unless he lets them, of course.

He walked away, unnoticed and thrilled to have found something interesting. He himself wasn’t sure whether the man was prey – he seemed to be more than just that. But he definitely wasn’t an equal; the detective denied his true self too much. No one who denies his own real identity deserves to be his equal… though it appeared as if the orange-haired man was still unsure of himself. Should he watch and see where the man would end up? He could always provoke him, make him act out. He didn’t mind making contact. He knew how to without being traced back.

He smirked and walked back to his den. He had some things to occupy himself with now.

 

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

“Ichigo, Urahara-san wants us to collect the report from the head coroner,” Renji said when they got back to their office.

“Can that wait? I need to tell Urahara-san something important,” Ichigo told him as he gestured to the captain’s office.

“Urahara’s not here. He’s out for some meeting and won’t be back for a while,” Renji informed him and Ichigo frowned slightly. Trust the man to not be around when he needed him most. He sighed and scratched his head. “Fine.” He got a lot of work to occupy himself with anyway.

He followed Renji into the coroner’s room – which was practically the morgue. He hated stepping into that place, but then again who does, except for sadistic, weird freaks like the head coroner they were meeting. They had been told that the big shots would be involved for this serial case, which included the head coroner of the whole forensics unit in Karakura. “Kurotsuchi-san,” Renji greeted the weird looking man with the skull-like painted mask of black and white. Were they tattoos? The coroner also wore a strange white pointy hat that pointed to his right; he was not only weird with strange fashion sense, but fucking creepy. Ichigo wondered how he was allowed to even wear such things to work without compromising the evidence and bodies he had to work with. The even weirder thing was the man had a daughter, who was working there as an assistant with him.

“Abarai Renji, yes?” the head coroner asked. Ichigo hated the way the man looked at people. Especially towards the bodies. There wasn’t any respect, just that they were experimental objects to be studied. But he had a different look to his eye. Kurotsuchi Mayuri didn’t want to kill, he only wanted to study and experiment. He wasn’t the same as him. Just probably a bit more fucked up, Ichigo thought. He brushed his thoughts away and stepped nearer towards the table where the latest victim’s body had been laid out. Nemu, Kurotsuchi’s daughter, was standing over the body and had just finished stitching up the neck where the victim had been slashed.

“Can we have the autopsy report?” Renji asked, looking uncomfortable around the mad man.

“Yes, yes, you’ll get it,” Kurotsuchi replied irritably. “Nemu, the report!” The girl with black braided hair nodded silently and quickly went to get a clipboard. She passed it to her father who snatched it from her hand and looked through the papers on it.

“Um… so is it exactly the same as all the other victims?” Ichigo asked, trying to break the dead silence that filled the morgue. No pun intended. The coroner looked up and eyed him briefly.

“Yes,” Kurotsuchi said. He pointed a trimmed, blue-painted finger at the stitched neck. “Time of death was around 1 a.m. Cause of death is a slash to the throat like victims one to three. The cuts are wide and deep, aiming to sever both exterior and interior jugulars. Bruises were from blunt force trauma – most likely punches – before the death.”

“Why would he bash someone up before killing them? Why not just kill him straight?” Renji asked.

“That’s your job to find out,” Kurotsuchi told him. He continued with his report. “Punches were violent, cracking a few ribs and he broke a leg, which probably disabled the victim from moving much. A sitting duck, just for No. 6.” The man grinned and he wiggled the creepy looking middle finger with the long fingernail. Renji just looked absolutely creeped out by the man while Ichigo tried to ignore him.

“Anything else?” Ichigo inquired.

“As for this hole,” Kurotsuchi shoved back the white sheet that covered half the body to reveal the gaping hole through the torso. It had been cleaned, but it was still grotesque. Renji stepped back slightly. “The circular cut was made with the murder weapon, which has been identified as a combat knife. Which kind, however, you can ask the weapons expert. “

“We’ll see Kensei-san then,” Ichigo said to Renji. Kurotsuchi continued as if he didn’t hear him.

“He took the stomach and both intestines, cutting it off from the end of the esophagus. Part of the spine had also been cut out to make the gaping hole. He’d have to use a lot of force with that knife to cut through the bone. Interestingly, the digging of the insides out appears to be by hand,” the coroner’s lips curled upwards in amuseme

“You mean he ripped his organs out with his bare hands?!” Renji looked sick now. Ichigo couldn’t blame him. He was feeling the same, though he couldn’t hide the feeling of awe that mixed with it.

“Yes,” Kurotsuchi replied curtly with a creepy, yellow-teethed grin. He cocked his head to the side slightly and pointed at the edge of the hole. “Claw-like marks made by human fingers. No traces of the killer though, pity.”

“So… no traces of the killer at all? No fibers, nails, hair, whatever stuck to the victim or his clothes?” Ichigo asked. How can that be? How meticulously can someone carry out a murder this messy to not even leave a trace?

“No, nothing at all,” Kurotsuchi replied him, looking as disappointed as he probably was. “Clothes were all clean. Wallet with everything including money intact.”

 _He’s good, aibou_ , the voice in his head said. _I like him already._

Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “Is that all?”

“All that is new. Everything else is pretty much the same as the previous cases,” the coroner stated. He moved to another table, where he beckoned them to. “Today’s serving is human stomach and intestines.” Kurotsuchi showed them the organs that were laid out neatly on the cold metal table. “Blood verified that it belonged to victim number four. Refrigeration of it meddled with the time, but it’s been found that these were placed in that alley almost 8 or 9 hours after the victim died.”

“Isn’t that…”

“The killer put the organs there 2 hours after you discovered the body, within the area you people were investigating the crime scene where the body was and while the investigation was still on-going. Interestingly police officers were out searching the area when he dumped these,” Kurotsuchi laid it out pretty nicely with that nasty grin of his. Renji muttered something that sounded like a cuss under his breath, while Ichigo just shook his head slightly.

Just as he thought, the guy really could go unnoticed. He frowned slightly and took the clipboard of reports from Kurotsuchi. “Any more?”

“Nothing,” the skull-faced coroner said simply as he scratched himself with that creepy long fingernail. “The organs are just that, refrigerated and put out for display. Like normal, frozen meat to be sold at the market.”

“…Is it just me, or are you insinuating that the killer… actually stored this in some freezer for… food?” Renji asked slowly. Kurotsuchi Mayuri smiled his creepiest, widest, yellow-teethed smile.

“Why else would you refrigerate meat, Detective Abarai?”

 

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

“Kurosaki,” Ichigo looked up to the voice he hadn’t heard in a while. A bespectacled man in a white lab coat and dark hair frowned at him.

“Ah, Ishida, you got the evidence processed?” Ichigo asked tiredly. Ishida shook his head slightly.

“Most of them but I’m finishing soon. There’s very little evidence, so I have to process them very carefully to ensure I don’t miss anything so it might take a while. I’m here to pass you the photos Kira-san took at the organ dumping site.” Ishida passed him an enclosed brown envelope, which Ichigo took and opened promptly.

“Ma-la… su..er-te?” Ichigo attempted as he read the bloody writing off the photos.

“’Mala Suerte’,” Ishida corrected. “It means ‘tough luck’ in Spanish.”

“The bastard’s taunting us,” Ichigo scowled. “In a foreign language too.”

“Who’s taunting us?” Ikkaku asked as he walked over from his desk. He looked very restless. He wasn’t the type to sit still. Well, he wasn’t the type for desk jobs in the first place.

“The killer, who else?” Ichigo said.

“What? What’d he say?” Ikkaku was one to be easily provoked as well.

“’Tough luck’,” Ichigo told him. He was too tired to bother. Rukia and Yumichika entered the room then, looking tired and pissed off at the same time. “Hey Rukia.”

“Ugh these people are annoying!” Yumichika cried, his frown marring his feminine face. He went to get himself a cup of coffee while Rukia explained his behavior.

“People won’t talk. Either they’re afraid of the killer, or it’s just because we were in a shady neighborhood where people keep everything to themselves,” Rukia said as she sat down on her desk chair. She saw the bespectacled man and gave him a smile. “Hey Ishida.”

“Kuchiki-san,” Ishida nodded in return. “I should get back to my work. I’ll update you guys when I’ve completed it.”

“Thanks, Ishida,” the team said in unison. Everyone sounded tired.

“What about the victim’s family and friends? Did they at least say anything about the victims?” Ichigo turned back to Rukia as the bespectacled forensic examiner left the room.

“They did say that the victims were capable of fighting, a couple of them were experts and one kept a knife for self-defense since they were in that shady part of town,” Rukia replied.

“That at least says something about the killer’s level of combat,” Ikkaku chipped in, looking quite excited by the conclusion. Ichigo remembered how he shared the same love for fighting and combat as his captain, which explained his restlessness during desk jobs. Rukia nodded thoughtfully.

“But that was the most we got. Other than that, zilch,” Rukia sighed. “So what about you guys? Anything new?” Rukia asked. Yumichika got back and passed her a cup of coffee which she took gratefully.

“No suspects, no trace evidence from crime scenes or bodies other than the victims’ own… nothing to go on with really,” Ichigo said with a shrug.

“Can’t go through the database without a single clue of who we’re looking for,” Ikkaku added.

“Then we’ve gotta look through what we do know so far,” Renji said, now entering the room with a box of evidence and papers. “These are evidences and reports from the previous victims. We can cross-reference them with this new victim and see what else we can learn. And I also got the murder weapon identified from Kensei-san - Is it just me or are the staff here a little crazy sometimes? He looked excited and even said the killer made ‘a simple but nice choice of weapon’.”

“Seeing that Kensei-san’s a fan of combat knives, I guess it’s pretty normal,” Ichigo uttered, though he knew everyone heard it.

“…Right. Anyways,” Renji placed the report and a combat knife on his desk. He held the knife up. “This is the same type of combat knife that he used. A standard US military combat knife, the KA-BAR. This might be the lead we needed, guys.”

“This is great, we’re getting somewhere,” Rukia said excitedly, looking hopeful. “This guy has some military background or he got it somewhere. Either way we’ll be able to narrow the list of suspects through the database or registration of weapons.”

“I’ll look through the database to see if anyone fits the bill,” Yumichika volunteered. “I don’t mind facing the computer after going through all the faces of those disgusting people.”

 

‘Highly unlikely,’ Ichigo thought to himself as the team immediately got to work. He didn’t mean to be pessimistic, but he just felt like the man wasn’t that easy to find. The killer was probably good at camouflaging himself, his backgrounds, his life, everything. Well, that was just his personal opinion and gut feeling as usual.

It took hours for the team to look through reports from eyewitnesses, the coroner, the forensics, then to look through the few evidences that they actually got from the cases. It was only until the end of the day that they decided to conclude the session, without finding anything that could be a potential break for the case.

Ichigo decided to do his own private investigation in his free time alone later, with the blue-haired man as his lead. He wouldn’t tell the others since they had shown their skepticism towards it earlier.

The others waved each other goodbye. All of them needed the few hours of sleep before they needed to wake up and get back to work again. Rukia had stopped by his desk and patted him on the shoulder after telling him to ‘go sleep or I’ll report to Urahara to force you to have a day off’. Ichigo had nodded and smiled to her, telling her that he would after packing his stuff. But he still had one thing left to do for the day before leaving the office. He still had to tell Urahara of his encounter that afternoon. He waited for the others to leave before he approached Urahara’s office. He peered through the half-open blinds at the window by the door to see if the man was there, and saw the silhouette of the man sitting at his desk.

Ichigo was about to knock on his door when he heard the man having a conversation with somebody, probably over the phone. Ichigo wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but when he heard his name amidst the conversation, he stopped, and tried to listen in.

“…yes, detective Kurosaki will be there to collect the psychological profile from you… when will your report will be ready by… …a week from now?... …yeah, I’d like you to talk to him and access him a bit as well,” Urahara said. It was soft but Ichigo swore he heard the man right. He wanted the person on the line, whom he assumed to be a psychiatrist, to access him as well. Ichigo felt himself clench his fists. The conversation continued, but this time Urahara spoke softer, and Ichigo had to strain his ears. “…no not trauma from a police shooting… his past… he’d been talking out loud… himself… he’s like… …killers… I can tell he has those… urges…” Ichigo immediately tore himself away from the door when he heard that. He walked away quickly, his breath becoming heavy. All thoughts of wanting to tell Urahara about the man that afternoon disappeared into mixed emotions of anger and betrayal.

It seemed like Urahara knew about his… condition. But if he knew why didn’t he take him off the case, or even the force? And to schedule him for an assessment with a psychiatrist without his knowledge… it was like Urahara was scared or suspicious of him… as if he thought Ichigo was mad, which he very well could be.

Ichigo stopped walking when he realized he’d reach his apartment and leaned against the door. He breathed in deeply before moving to open the door and entering it. He didn’t want to think about it, and decided to occupy his mind with something else. Taking the reports of eyewitnesses and victims he had copied down by hand, Ichigo went to his work desk at the balcony and began his private investigation.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been close to a week since the team had gathered to take on the case of the Rokuban killer. Progress was slow, and the team was facing the same problems the previous investigators had while working on the cases of the previous victims. Even with Ishida’s and Kira’s processed evidence, they had little to work with and often resulted at a dead end. But what they found that was a working drive for the team was that this district of Karakura - where the police station the team had gathered at - was where the killer most probably resided, since the bars the victims were last seen in were a cluster of bars in the area. They had probably been killed nearby, only to be moved as far as the other end of the town.

Ever since he had overheard Urahara’s conversation over the phone, Ichigo had been giving the man a little bit of the cold shoulder. The man seemed to notice, but did not question, and left Ichigo to his work. He did, however, reminded Ichigo to go meet the psychiatrist who would be giving them his report of a psychological profile of the killer. And that day was today, and Ichigo was getting a little nervous as he drove to the building where the psychiatrist’s office was. He never liked them. For one thing, they were like Kurotsuchi Mayuri, who only viewed people as something to study. Another thing was that he’d gone there too often as a kid, and to relive the bad memories of his past… 

Ichigo stopped delving deeper into his thoughts. It was too dangerous. He hoped what Urahara had said about accessing him was just his ears playing tricks on him. But of course it wouldn’t be. Bad luck always haunted him. He willed all thoughts away as he got into the elevator to the 5th floor and walked towards the counter where the receptionist was. She was young and small-sized, had her fringe parted to the side and her hair in a bun. 

“Hi, may I help you?” the receptionist asked with a cheerful smile. 

“I’d like to see Dr. Aizen please?” Ichigo informed her. “I’m Detective Kurosaki… I need to collect his report.” Ichigo added and flashed his police badge. The receptionist’s smile faded a little but returned as she nodded and dialed on her phone. 

“Aizen-san? Detective Kurosaki’s here for your report… Yes, I understand,” she put down the phone and told Ichigo. “You can go to his office now, which is the first door to the left. Please remember to knock first.” 

“Thanks,” Ichigo said and the girl smiled again. Ichigo went to the door as directed and nervously, he knocked on the door that had the name ‘Dr. Aizen Sousuke’ on it. He heard the soft reply from behind the door and took another deep breath before he entered. 

“Kurosaki Ichigo?” was the first thing Aizen Sousuke asked when Ichigo stepped in. The psychiatrist smiled, and Ichigo could tell straight away that it was just a façade. The way the man looked at him was condescending. It pissed him off. Ichigo tried to reciprocate the smile, but instead felt himself scowl harder. 

“Yes, I’m the detective who’s collecting your report on the killer,” Ichigo replied. Aizen handed him the papers, the smile still sticking to his face. Ichigo wondered if he ever got a facial cramp from that. 

“Your captain told me…” 

“That I’m mad, am I right?” Ichigo cut in, his temper flaring suddenly for some reason. “That I’m like… I look like one of them, those killers.” The psychiatrist’s smile widened and Ichigo felt a little uneasy. Like the man was probing into his head.

“You don’t look like them, but yes, you certainly give off the vibe a little, Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen said calmly. Ichigo just glared at him. “Now, how do you feel about that?” 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a patient, I never consented to this session,” Ichigo snapped back. 

“But if that is so, then why didn’t you leave after I gave you the papers and after what I’ve said?” Aizen replied and Ichigo stopped. “It shows that you too want to know about yourself, don’t you?” Ichigo didn’t reply, but he stared back at the man with his fists clenching tighter. 

Aizen leaned back in his chair and let his placed the tips of his fingers together. He gestured to the chair and for some reason Ichigo automatically sat down on it and looked at the man as he waited for him to speak. “I read up about you. You were featured in the papers a couple of years ago, for being one of the youngest detectives to enter homicide unit and that you’re one of the best. You followed your father’s footsteps, whom I learned to be an excellent detective as well and is now out of the country working on another case. You’ve grown a name for yourself over the years you’ve spent in detective work.” 

Ichigo said nothing, a little tired of hearing things that had been repeated a few times before from friends and strangers. They only understood him from the newspapers, but they didn’t know him inside. Aizen studied him momentarily before he continued talking. “Now, Urahara Kisuke told me about you talking out loud to yourself, and looking like you’re controlling yourself from doing something sometimes.” 

“…I hear voices,” Ichigo began, and his eyes immediately looked elsewhere. He didn’t like this guy, and he hated talking about himself, so why was he talking now? Was it because he knew he had to get help? Was Urahara doing the right thing sending him here? Was _he_ doing the right thing by choosing to speak up? 

“How many?”

“Mostly just one, but sometimes another one talks to me too,” Ichigo said monotonously. His mind was blank as he spoke.

“Would you describe their voices?”

“The one that talks a lot sounds high-pitched and distorted. Annoying. Evil,” Ichigo described slowly. His eyes just stared off into blank space. “The other one sounds like an older man. He’s gentle, and nice. Like… a teacher or a father. He hardly speaks, but I have a feeling like he’s watching silently.”

“And when did you start hearing these?” Aizen continued to ask. He seemed mildly intrigued, but then again he must’ve gone through the same thing every session with his patients.

“I don’t know. A long time. Since…” Ichigo stopped. He didn’t want to say it.

“Since?” Aizen pressed.

“…My mother died,” Ichigo said with a soft, cracked voice.

“Yes I’ve read that she was deceased… How old were you?” 

“….Five,” Ichigo answered. “…She died… right in front of me.” 

“How did she die?” 

 _Enough_ , Ichigo thought. He stood up, his mind muddled with blurred images he didn’t want to see. “I’m sorry I have to get back to work.” He headed for the door but Aizen’s voice stopped him for a bit. 

“If you ever want to continue this, I’m always available, Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen said from behind him. Ichigo didn’t even nod and promptly got out. As he shut the door he paused and took a deep breath. He tried to keep his mind as blank as possible as he concentrated on his breathing. He stared at his trembling hand again as that undesirable _urge_ took over him again and Ichigo pressed his palm to his face. Maybe it was just anger at the sudden confrontation of his past. Or maybe he just really wanted to rip that annoying face off that smiling psychiatrist. 

“Um, Detective Kurosaki?” Ichigo looked up, mildly aware that he was breathing heavily and having cold sweat. The receptionist was looking at him with concern. Ichigo finally got a look at the name tag on her shirt. 

“I’m fine… Hinamori-san. Just a migraine,” Ichigo lied.

“I see, please take care of yourself,” the girl said with a gentle smile and she bowed slightly. She went back to her counter and Ichigo gave her a last nod before he finally went into the elevator and exited the building with the profile report in his hands.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

“Kurosaki-san?” Urahara called. Ichigo was sitting at his desk, looking dazed and still clutching to the report ever since he got back from the psychiatrist’s office. Ichigo turned when he heard his name and seemed to get back to his senses. “The report?”

“Ahh, right,” Ichigo said tiredly. “Here.” He passed the paper to Urahara.

“Are you alright?” the captain asked.

“Yeah, just didn’t get enough sleep,” Ichigo said.

“Look, about the psychiatrist…” 

“It’s okay,” Ichigo told him. “I know you meant it for my own good but… just… tell me at least? It makes me think as if… you’re scared of me. I mean, I know I’m mental and all –“

“You’re not mental, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara said. “You’re just…” Urahara seemed to have a little trouble finding the correct word. “…Unwell. You’re good at what you do and I trust you enough to keep you here.” Ichigo stared back at the older man, not knowing what to think.

“Okay,” Ichigo merely said. “Thanks, I guess.” Urahara nodded sadly and took the report from him before retreating into his office. Ichigo went back to his work.

The investigation hadn’t been very productive. Without much evidence, the whole case came to a halt. They had stretched their limits by hounding every eyewitness and related persons, interrogating suspects that fit in the loose profile they had come up with, and looking over the evidence and crime scenes again and again. Yet they came up with nothing. In the end they were left with theories that weren’t good enough to follow. Seeing that the killer’s pattern was laying out a kill either every six weeks or on a date with the number six, they were facing a worst case scenario of the latter. The next date of a possible finding of a victim was approximately another week from now. Ichigo sighed and buried his face in his arms as he rested on the desk top. 

If only they had another murder… He felt bad for thinking that way, but if there was another murder, they’d have more clues to go by. The more the killer kills, the more confident they get when they don’t get caught, and the higher the chance they’d leave something that would lead to his arrest. Ichigo felt conflicted as the feeling of anticipation for the next murder victim to come. No, he thought to himself. He shouldn’t think that way. He got up and went to get himself a cup of coffee. If he had nothing to go by, he’ll continue with his own investigation. As he sipped his drink and sat back down on his seat, Ichigo looked up at the clock and saw that it was a few hours before working hours were over. He planned to take action for his own investigation.

He’d never forget that encounter at the scene where the organs were found. Unfortunately, memory had failed him and the features of the man were all but fuzzy as the days passed by. Ichigo thought he’d recognize him at least if he ever saw him again. Sure, it was just a gut feeling that told him that the man with the beanie who grinned at him was the Rokuban killer, but when a gut feeling gets this strong and even his killer instinct recognized a fellow predator… It just had to mean something didn’t it? All he could really remember was blue. Sharp, cold blue eyes that pierced right through him. 

Blue… _blue_.

Was it just him or did that have something to do with the blue haired man? It probably didn’t mean anything, but again, his gut feeling was nudging him in that direction. Or maybe Urahara was right, he was just excited and it was leading him to wild theories. But if one doesn’t have any leads, he’d have to depend on his instincts, right?

 _Blue eyes, blue hair…_ the voice spoke with interest. Even _it_ was poking him in that direction. It definitely had to mean something.

Ichigo decided to visit the bars the victims were last seen in since the blue-haired men had been seen in at least two of the involved bars that might give Ichigo a chance of learning more about the possible suspect there. 

From both his private and main police investigation, Ichigo had learned that the bars where the victims were last seen at were foreign. They had Europeans names and were usually catered to the Westerners, though some of the patrons were local. The entire investigation team didn’t think the victims need to be of a specific race – they just had to be men who looked capable of fighting or defending themselves. So far all of them were locals; it would be troublesome if they were foreign. Besides, most of the foreigners were in Karakura would be tourists. They wouldn’t look like someone who would be able to put up much of a fight. 

Ichigo had thought that the suspect was probably a foreigner who perhaps took residence in Karakura. The combat knife was one clue - military combat knifes were extremely rare in Japan, especially a foreign one. The suspect could have bought it online but all goods that are shipped in would be checked, and such a weapon would definitely raise alarm once it tries to get clearance. The other clue was the choice of bars he chose to visit. As the investigations had shown, the bars were more catered to Western patrons where foreign alcohol could be easily acquired. It was possible the killer probably felt a bit more at home in these bars, especially where the patrons around him were foreigners too. 

Other information he found out involved the locations of the bars. Though the bars were littered all over Karakura, they were close to shady parts of towns and situated near networks of back alleys that were isolated and quiet where people hardly walk through, including the alleys where the latest body and organs were found. That was how the killer probably easily killed his victims – no one could have seen them.

Ichigo pondered over the questions he would ask the bartenders as he walked towards the bar where the latest victim was last seen at. Ichigo was dressed in something a little more casual than usual, preferring to dress this way than the stuffy shirts and coats he always had to wear to work. Besides, he was going to a bar to gather information, not to have a good time. A pair of pants, a tee and a smart jacket was enough. He also reminded himself to cover his hair which was always too bright for its own good. He knew it stood out wherever he was, and people would surely recognize him from the papers that he appeared in occasionally, thanks to those blasted reporters. Ichigo put on his fedora that covered most of his orange spikes and stepped into the bar. 

What initially put him off was the amount of people in the place. It was pretty crowded, and most of them were foreigners. Some of them had crazy colored hair and it appeared that the unique hair colors didn’t seem weird to them. He’d seen some platinum blonds, some green-haired and others even pink-haired. The strange thing was that they appeared to be the natural color. No wonder the blue-haired man could go unnoticed. Though it was comforting to know there were other-colored-hair people, Ichigo still wasn’t comfortable enough to remove his fedora and got back to work mode. He approached the female bartender at the counter, who was talking to a group of three women. She turned to him when she noticed him approaching and raised a brow in interest. 

“You’re a strange looking one,” the female barkeep said. Ichigo frowned and would have returned the comment if he wanted to be rude, but thought better of it and kept it to himself. The woman was older and taller, but was an exotic beauty nonetheless with her large plump breasts as an added plus. Her dark skin contrasted with her short bright yellow hair and sharp turquoise eyes. “What I meant is you’re new here. And that you have hair unlike the locals.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ichigo was a little surprised by the apologetic tone. And she could see his hair color and tell that he was local. Well it wasn’t really hard to tell, but she had a poker face on and that had Ichigo not knowing how to react. “Anyway, I’m here to ask some things.” 

“Ask away, detective,” she said calmly and Ichigo was getting annoyed for some reason. The woman was too cool and she seemed to be able to tell who he was so easily, or was he just being too obvious? Ignoring his own questions in his head, Ichigo proceeded.

“You know of any blue-haired guy?”

“Blue?” the female barkeep looked thoughtful with the slight furrowing of her brows, though it wasn’t that different from her previous expression. “I’m not entirely sure, but I might have.” 

“What do you mean ‘might have’?” 

“As you can see, my patrons are a whole rainbow range of colors,” the barkeep nodded her head to the direction of the people sitting at a nearby table. Ichigo admitted she had a point. “But if I’m not sure of him that means he either is not a regular or keeps himself hidden at a corner where I don’t see him. I’m pretty confident in recognizing and knowing my customers.” 

“Well, thanks,” Ichigo said, but sincerely. He gave her a small smile and gave her his card. “Please call me up if you see any blue-haired man around. Or blue eyed, for that matter.” 

“Blue-eyed?” she asked and seemed to be thinking again. Ichigo stopped and stared at her expectantly. 

“You know of any?”

“What kind of blue are you asking for though? There are many blue-eyed customers, but I’ve seen a shade that was just bright enough to possibly glow in the dark,” the barkeep said.

“I guess that could be it. Something like a cobalt blue.”

“Yeah it might be him.” 

“You know him?” Ichigo quickly asked, getting impatient. The barkeep shook her head. 

“No, but I’ve seen him come here once or twice, or maybe as I said, he hid himself at a corner somewhere where I can’t see him,” she said.

“What does he usually wear? What time, with anyone, anything you can say about him?” Ichigo took out a scrap of paper and pen, ready to write whatever information the barkeep would tell. 

“Nothing much. In the few times I’ve seen him, he wears casuals like jeans and a hoodie. He wears a cap as well. He always come here alone usually after 10, and exits alone too,” she told him and Ichigo wrote it all down. It may not be the guy Ichigo was hoping for but from the description, the female bartender might be talking about the same one. But she said he exited alone, but it could be that she didn’t see the possible victims getting out with him. 

“Great, thank you,” Ichigo said. The woman smiled at him for the first time and Ichigo returned it. He doubted the guy would visit the bar again, so he decided to leave first. He’ll go visit the other bars and see whether the bartenders have the same descriptions. If they do, then he’d have a target somewhat. Ichigo realized it would take more work to really narrow in on the guy to at least get his name. With a name Ichigo could get so much more on him, but so far, he had nothing. 

He decided he’d have to do whatever it takes to catch the killer.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

He had been busy all this while. The orange haired detective’s face wouldn’t get out of his head. Those eyes, especially. He could stare into them forever. He fleetingly wondered what it was like if he brought the man’s secret out of those eyes, or drain the life out of them, and he couldn’t decide which would be better. Perhaps the former? He hadn’t come in contact with a fellow predator before. A first time meeting would be exciting.

But no, it was still too soon. It was only a week since he first saw the orange lion cub. As an experienced panther he was more patient, waiting silently in the shadows was the norm. He’d watch the young King and see how he’d grow. If he were to remain as a cub then he’d be prey. But what if he grew into a lion? What should he do to him? He himself didn’t know. There couldn’t be two predators in a single territory; there was no such thing as two Kings in one kingdom. One would have to leave, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be him.

He felt conflicted though. The orange haired man was too interesting to kill off, yet he wanted to feel the satisfaction of extinguishing his life. It was those eyes he saw that day. They were an intense brown, an innocent color that hid a monster inside. He swore he could have seen gold in those orbs when the younger man had blinked, but it was only for a brief second. That was what he wanted to reach. That was what he wanted to bring out and that was what he wanted to kill.

“Kurosaki Ichigo…” the name rolled off his lips smoothly. It was easy to find the identity of the detective, especially since he was quite favored by the police and the media. A unique name, but terribly ironic. His name meant ‘protector’, but it was clear in the young detective’s eyes that he wanted to do the opposite. Destruction, however, was _his_ forte. _He_ was born for destruction. If the kid wanted to rival him and try his hand at destruction, he’d best learn to release that monster in him.

And he knew exactly how to bring that monster out.


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo was at the psychiatrist’s office again, but this time he wasn’t there to collect any psychology report. Instead he was there on his own accord. The young orange haired detective fidgeted in the welcoming couch of Aizen’s office as he waited for the said man to finish talking with his secretary outside who was apparently that receptionist. He thought over why the hell did he made an appointment with the brown-haired man and went ‘ _Ah_.’

It was only after the first week of his own investigation, and the second week since the homicide team was gathered. Ichigo had visited the bars to seek out information, and had found little bits of the info he might need. He had visited those bars daily, sometimes going to the other bars that were all over town. You may call it a little excessive, but Ichigo called it perseverance and determination to catch the killer.

On a particular day however – which was just a few days ago – the detective was on his way home from his stake outs at one of the bars. It was in the wee hours of the morning, approximately 2 am, and he was walking along those isolated alleys. Ichigo knew full well it was dangerous, but he knew he was capable of defending himself. He was walking in the deeper parts of the alley network, a shortcut back to his home that he had found over the past week, when Ichigo caught the particular scent of blood. It was a sickly sweet smell, still fresh, and Ichigo immediately went into an alarmed state. The detective sought it out quickly; someone could be injured, dying, or even worse – dead. Following where his sense of smell took him, Ichigo ran. He knew the smell better than anyone.

As Ichigo followed the sharp turn, he saw the limp mass crumpled on the floor and he immediately knew it was dead. Blood was everywhere, and the body had a gaping hole in it. It looked extremely recent, as if the victim had only been killed minutes before he approached.

 

 _It’s him_ , the creature inside uttered gleefully. Ichigo went numb at the sight. Bits of flesh scattered on the floor by the gaping hole and body. He felt his body moving without his will towards the body. The stench of blood was so strong, yet Ichigo only wanted to get nearer to it. He took a pen from his pocket and lightly pushed away the remaining cloth on the dead body’s back. There, by the right of the hole, was the carved number 6.

 

The Rokuban Killer had just claimed his latest victim only a few meters from where he was. Ichigo shivered violently at the thought as he studied the body further. The throat had been cut, more violently than the previous victims. The cut looked deep enough to have beheaded the victim if the killer used more force; the head was only really connected by the neckbone with its flesh torn apart. Ichigo could picture the shiny blade of the combat knife slicing into the flesh and through the jugular, gullet, and vocal chords. He could almost see the blood spurting out from the cut like a fountain. The smell of blood around him only heightened the vividness of his imagination.

Something by the body reflected light and Ichigo saw that it was a knife. Was it the murder weapon? No, it was just a normal kitchen knife. The killer uses a combat knife. But there was blood on it and Ichigo looked back to the body. It was then that he almost wanted to take up the knife and stab the corpse. No matter that it was dead, he needed to see the blood flow. He can’t get a living victim, so a dead one would do… The evil voice cackling in his head prodded him, but just as Ichigo reached closer to the knife, it glistened from the moonlight and another voice spoke up.

 _‘Ichigo_ ,’ the older, gentler voice had said. Ichigo called the voice Zangetsu, but had forgotten how he actually ended up with the name. He had only seen blurred features of the man in his head, but he could always feel the older man’s presence in the back of his mind. It wasn’t invasive, but comforting, like having a mentor watching him always. And when the voice spoke at that moment, Ichigo got hold of his senses and stopped. The other voice had gone silent.

Ichigo reached for his cell phone and immediately called Urahara.

Three days after that and Ichigo was still shaken by the find. A lot of investigation had to go on, especially on him since he was found on the first direct crime scene of the Rokuban Killer. They had no proper lead on Ichigo so they allowed him back to the team. Rukia had looked genuinely concerned about him, and especially his mental state. She was worried that he would be traumatized, but Ichigo had assured her that he was okay. The rest of the team was concerned as well, and even Ikkaku bought him coffee when he got to the office.

Well, Ichigo said he was okay, but that didn’t mean he really was okay. Ichigo himself wasn’t sure, actually. He just kept thinking of the body, the blood, the smell, the knife, the gaping hole and that number carved into the flesh beside it. He didn’t want to lose his mind over it, and decided to take up the offer by that psychiatrist he had visited before.

 

“Good evening Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen greeted when he entered the room. Ichigo was seated at the sofa, scowling as hard as ever. He hated the room and the man who owned it, but he had chosen to go there in the first place.

“Evening,” he muttered out.

“What brings you here today?” Aizen asked. “I saw on the news that you apparently found the latest victim. And it was the first time that the scene of the kill was found too. Are you disturbed by the find or the suspicion that fell on you?”

“…Both,” Ichigo said after a moment’s hesitation, a little disturbed by how fast and direct the man was. He almost sounded like a reporter, but he guessed they were probably the same when it comes to getting answers. “But more on the find. I could care less about what others think about me but the feeling of everyone’s suspicion against you… makes me feel as if I really did kill the victim. They could say I have, since I was only a few hundred meters away when the victim was being slaughtered. I could have walked faster, then I could have seen him, stopped him, _saved_ him.” Ichigo sounded like he was muttering to himself, rather.

“And for that are you referring to the victim or the killer?” Ichigo looked up at the psychiatrist with bewilderment.

“What are you saying? Of course I’m talking about the victim!” Ichigo said heatedly, though he swore he could hear a giggle in the back of his head. _Shut up_. 

“Just making sure, Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen simply replied with that smile of his. 

“Anyway,” Ichigo continued. “I’m here because… I feel like I’m getting worse. There was a knife at that scene, and I almost picked it up. Just picking it up would have done a lot of damage to me, my job, my life, _everything_. Whatever condition I have took me over. He talked to me, kept urging me…” Ichigo was blurting out all those words for some reason to a person he didn’t even like. Yet once he spoke a few words it seemed to have dragged others out with it.

“But you didn’t?”

“Zangetsu stopped me. The other guy in my head,” Ichigo said quickly and not meeting Aizen’s eyes, still looking elsewhere. “I’ll tell you frankly I’m terrified that I might actually end up losing control of myself and someone might get hurt. I actually wanted to stab the fucking corpse, how fucking sick is that?” The orange haired detective laughed humorlessly to himself as he stared at the floor. Aizen just watched him silently until Ichigo stopped and finally looked up with a blank look on his face. 

“Sometimes I think I did kill some people. I keep thinking about it. My imagination is kind of vivid I guess…” Ichigo was staring at blank space. Aizen continued to observe silently. “But I can smell it. The blood. Even when I’m in bed, or in the office, or at some café. And then, there was him and the knife…” Ichigo blinked and turned back to Aizen almost abruptly, as if he was awoken from a trance. “Whatever I just said, it shows I’m nuts right?”

 

“I’ll tell you now that from what you tell me, your condition sounds like a form of psychosis, probably schizophrenia. Though, you still seem very much sane and can maintain your ability to tell right from wrong,” Ichigo actually looked scared by the mention of the mental illness. Aizen continued, “It’s still very early for me to tell. Who knows, like you said, it could just be very vivid imagination or some psychological-behavioral problem. There is medicine, but it is still too early for prescription, and may not be helpful in the first place. If you’re really that scared of yourself you can check yourself into an asylum,” Aizen told him straightforwardly. 

Ichigo fidgeted in his seat, his brow furrowing as he narrowed his eyes at the man sitting across from him. “You’re not really helping me.”

“Truth be told, most psychiatric conditions are usually not cured, just suppressed with those drugs,” Aizen informed him. “However it doesn’t mean we psychiatrists don’t help. My way of helping would be different. I don’t really trust drugs and I’d like to study and get to the root of the problem before I will guide and properly help you.”

“Tsk, fucking shrinks,” Ichigo muttered under his breath though he knew Aizen could clearly hear it. 

“If you’re not prepared for that, you may find another ‘shrink’ or we can prepare another session,” Aizen suggested to him with a smile, but Ichigo could feel the slight cut to those words. He thought over it.

“Just start now. I don’t want to keep visiting your office,” Ichigo said bluntly, showing how much he disliked the man. Or the profession, at least. Aizen’s smile widened.

“Very well. Let’s begin with those voices, shall we?” Aizen got himself some paper on a clipboard and a pen before sitting back down. “Before you mentioned there were two and you said ‘Zangetsu’ stopped you. Since you said you feel you’re getting worse, do you hear more voices or the present ones are talking more?”

Ichigo tried to relax himself and set his eyes elsewhere. Anywhere but the shrink. He didn’t want to end up socking the ever-smiling man in the face. “Still two. As I said, one usually talks and the other rarely does. That time when I found the victim… The talkative one didn’t speak, but I could feel him nudging me to approach the victim, to touch it, to feel the fresh death that the body radiated of. But the other one, the older guy Znangetsu, suddenly spoke up and stopped me. If I touched the knife, I could have been under serious investigation. I would have been the prime suspect for the murder.”

“Does the other one have a name?”

“I don’t know the talkative one’s name, just Zangetsu’s,” Ichigo said slowly. It was the first time he ever said the name out loud to anyone. It felt weird, and he could almost feel like the old man’s presence shift in content at the mention of his name. He never thought he’d ever be talking to anyone about the voices in his head.

“That’s a very meaningful sounding name. Is there any significance to it?” Aizen continued asking as he scribbled on his notes. Ichigo meanwhile was seeing flashes of an old incident in his head. He cringed as he mentally saw the reflection of the moon on some shiny object, but couldn’t make out what. The knife from the crime scene reminded him of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it either.

“I guess, but I can’t remember,” Ichigo said. Aizen just smiled at him.

“You didn’t do as that… ‘bad’ voice persuaded you to. I assume you called your captain?” Ichigo nodded. “Tell me more about this Zangetsu.”

“Mostly when I am in a dilemma or down in the dumps, he talks to me. He’s sort of like a dad, I guess,” Ichigo replied. “I noticed though, that when Zangetsu talks, the other one keeps quiet.”

“I would take that as a good sign, Kurosaki-kun,” Aizen said, this time with a smile that looked slightly genuine. “You seem to have two opposing personas - one sounds like your ‘bad’ and primal side, the other an older, wiser figure. The latter whom you call Zangetsu seems to be keeping you in check. But since you seem to be prone to the other’s urges and persuasions, I’d recommend you have someone voluntarily keep an eye on you. I’m sure Captain Urahara Kisuke would be glad to watch you.”

“Okay…” Ichigo said slowly. “So… do I get some pills or something? Medicine?” Ichigo was hoping for something superficial. He wanted some drugs to assure himself he actually did something to try and control himself rather than just talking about himself to another man. His temper was rising quickly.

“Not until I learn more about your condition. We haven’t landed on a proper diagnosis, so it is unsafe for me to prescribe medication so soon,” Aizen told him.

“Tsk, and how many more sessions would that be?” Ichigo wasn’t taking any of that. He needed something… anything tangible that he can hang onto in reality to assure himself that he would feel better. He really wasn’t keen on getting no for an answer.

“It depends how much you talk, Kurosaki-kun.” Ichigo stood up promptly.

“I’m not here to talk, I need medication that can control these voices in my head,” Ichigo snapped. His patience was wearing thin. He swore it wasn’t his fault, but one just can’t help but get frantic when he had gone quite close to destroying himself earlier. “I was this close to fucking up a dead guy and my whole life. I need something!”

“Then I think you should go to the pharmacy for whatever drugs you need. I do not want to be responsible for misdiagnosis and giving you drugs that may only destroy you,” Aizen replied simply without changing his expression. Ichigo glared at him before he walked away, heading towards the door. “I’ll see you in the next session Kurosaki-kun,” he said just as Ichigo slammed the door on him.

The orange-haired detective forced a smile at the receptionist and quickly walked into the elevator, where he was already shoving his anger back and trying to concentrate on work. He hated talking about himself, he hated his past and he _fucking. Hated. Psychiatrists_.

Ichigo sighed out loud in the empty elevator and glanced at his watch. _No use bitching about it, just concentrate on work. Or sleep. I need fucking sleep_ , Ichigo told himself. After thinking carefully, he decided to grab some take-outs and get that much needed sleep once he gets home.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

He had been keeping himself busy. A lot of time was taken to learn much about the orange haired detective. Having contacts with the underground made it easy, and with the technology nowadays it wasn’t hard to get information. And what he dug up about the young detective was very interesting indeed.

 

He wasn’t really the type to plan things, but sometimes planning and executing can be as fun as impulsive acts. What he pulled off a few days ago had his heart racing as much as it did when he experienced his first kills. So much thrill, excitement and anticipation. Watching the detective was easy as pie; the young man was completely oblivious to people around him, and getting the pattern of his actions was just as simple. 

He had watched the man leave his home for work, take a break, do his personal research, and even go to those bars that he usually went to. He was quite impressed with the young detective’s deduction and perseverance to actually visit these bars that were clearly not his thing almost daily. It had him smiling, and feeling quite flattered to be the subject of the detective’s work.

The detective’s life of monotony in office or in the field didn’t bother him. He enjoyed watching the man, especially since his interest was already piqued by those eyes. The young man’s face was usually set in a frown, but occasionally he would break into a smile and as he watched he sometimes felt almost jealous of those people – his group of freak friends. But it wasn’t the smile he wanted. It was those eyes. Even from far he could sometimes see the hidden monster inside. The way he looked at people, the way his lips moved slightly when he utters things under his breath, or the way his body tensed and his head lowered whenever he was controlling his urge. 

Oh yes, he can see it very clearly - the lion among the lambs. He had sworn to bring it out and he had it all planned out. 

It was only the second week since his last kill, but he didn’t care. He looked at the calendar: 16th August. Good, the number 6. A good omen for him. 

As usual, he followed the detective that night. He was still scouting the bars, and it was almost endearing to watch the man’s commitment. He suppressed his grin and followed into the bar. He let the man go for now and began his plan, picking out a decent prey almost easily. Some guy with a rather built upper body that liked to talk. He humored the man while he waited for the detective to leave, and when the man finally did, so did he along with his clueless prey. He didn’t bother with the name, age or even the face. All his thoughts were on a promising young detective. 

Again, he let the orange haired man go. This time he’d go a different way. He knew the alleys like the back of his hand. The perfect place where no one would hear you scream, and even if someone did, they wouldn’t bother. He led his prey somewhere close to the route the detective usually took. It didn’t take him much time to beat the weakling down, leaving him close to unconsciousness but still hanging on. Why was it so hard to find someone who could fight decently nowadays? He then wondered if the detective could fight, but from what he had learned about him, the man probably could. 

 He grinned at the thought as took out his knife. He loomed over the shivering prey, whose eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen to him. He reached out and turned the man over to lie on his belly, clamping a hand over the mouth to muffle the nameless man’s scream. He raised the head slightly as he pressed against the back. Blade on the neck, he pictured the eyes of a detective named Kurosaki Ichigo, and sliced the flesh under the cold steel.

He did the usual things once he was done. He didn’t bother to clean up; it was all in the plan. He wanted Kurosaki to see the blood. To smell the stench that was strong enough that you could almost taste it. Every predator would be excited from the sight of blood. He watched from afar, as usual, and couldn’t contain his excitement. He had taken out the excitement on the prey too, by cutting much deeper and mutilating the body a little bit more than usual. But it was all specially for a fellow predator.

He wanted to see if Kurosaki was worthy. He wanted to see how much of a monster he was deep inside. He grinned widely when he saw the horrified face on the man’s face when he saw the corpse. If he could, he would’ve grinned like a Cheshire Cat, lips split open from ear to ear, as he watched the expression of horror change into a mix of curiosity, desire and madness. Even from where he was, he could see those eyes glistening gold. _Pick it up, Kurosaki._ The detective noticed the knife and moved towards it. _Pick it up._

But alas, just as his fingertips were about to brush the handle of the knife, he stopped and the lion disappeared. He clenched his fist and punched the wall beside him as he grit his teeth. _So fucking close._ Why did he stop? He didn’t know and was interested to find out what. Never mind that this chance was blown, there were others. Predators can fail at times when catching prey too, and this was one of those. Next time for sure, he’ll bring that monster out. 

And when he does, he’ll meet him, greet him, and gut him. All for good fun.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Ichigo awoke in his bed covered in cold sweat. He sat up slowly as he panted slightly and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. He buried his face in his hands and exhaled loudly. He had been dreaming for the past few days and they always disturb him. 

They weren’t exactly nightmares, but they were just uncanny. They were all set in the same place; a peculiar area that would never exist in the real world. In it, there was a great big blue sky with puffy white clouds, but Ichigo was standing on the side of a skyscraper. The whole place was just tall skyscrapers set horizontally, with the sky hovering low above him. The stranger thing was, Ichigo remembered having dreams like this even when he was a kid after his mother had passed on. Just that now, after so long, he was dreaming of this again.

‘Ichigo,’ someone had called him and Ichigo turned around to see an older man totally dressed in black, with long shaggy hair and shades.

“Zangetsu,” Ichigo had felt himself saying. It was the first time he’d seen the man’s features so clearly. The man bowed his head slightly, then looked back up at him. Or rather, _past_ him. He turned and had seen a mirror image of himself, but in black and white. That was the most recent dream that had Ichigo waking up in cold sweat. It wasn’t freaky to see one’s mirror image in black and white, but it was just that figure.

Ichigo knew it was no mere doppelganger. It had black eyes with golden irises that screamed hatred and bloodlust. Its black-teethed grin added the sinister feel to his gaze towards Ichigo. And he had vaguely remembered the thing speak, in that twisted, distorted voice, ‘ _I will kill.’_

It was then when he awoke. He felt chills run down his spine as he played back the words in his head. _No_ , Ichigo assured himself, _I’ll never do such a thing_. Ichigo took the sleeping pills and glass of water that he had by his bed and curled up in his bed. With the dreams and the constant, faint snickering in the back of his mind whenever he tried to sleep, Ichigo figured he would have to get more of those pills for his desired dreamless nights.


	5. Chapter 5

“Ichigo, you alright?” Renji asked when he stopped by his desk. Ichigo looked at him with a questioning look. “You look pale, and you got bags under your eyes. Something keeping you awake?” Rukia was already looking at him from her desk even though she was engaged in a call. Ikkaku and Yumichika were looking at them the moment they entered the office room too. The other people in the bustling office were looking at him too, even though the noise level of talking and phone calls didn’t go down. Ichigo frowned at the feeling of their eyes on him and shrugged.

“Nothing, just been staying up to do some extra work,” Ichigo half-lied, and saying it a little louder for everyone to hear. It was true that he had been staying up, but it was because of nightmares rather than ‘extra work’. 

“You work too hard, Ichigo,” Renji told him, but the younger detective sighed loudly at it. He heard that line too many times. He rolled his eyes when he noticed Rukia putting down the phone and coming his way, already anticipating another nagging session from the small woman.

“You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?” Rukia asked instead, in a softer voice. Ichigo’s eyes snapped to hers, and the look sent Rukia quiet. She looked as if she saw something in his eyes, and feeling self-conscious, Ichigo softened his glare. The female detective just stared at him worriedly. 

“No,” he lied again. “I don’t have those much anymore. I’m just really trying to catch this guy. He’s already killed enough to have the average number of murders in Karakura to rise.”

“But if you don’t rest, he’s going to kill you by having you work to exhaustion,” Rukia replied. Renji just nodded as he stood by her and agreeing with what she said. Ichigo frowned at her choice of words, but shrugged it off. He wouldn’t get killed by a psycho killer, even if his chances were probably higher than usual for being too nosy.

“I can manage,” Ichigo said with a tone of finality that had Rukia looking at Renji, who just shook his head.

“Fine,” Rukia relented, “But if we find you sleeping on your desk, you’re going home.” She then returned to her desk and everyone seemed to go back to what they were doing. Ichigo fought back the urge to sigh again. _Nosy pricks_. He was exhausted, but he wasn’t sleepy.

So far it had been almost a month since the first scene of the Rokuban Ichigo had been to, and after two kills and a visit to that bastard psychiatrist’s office, Ichigo was already feeling a lot of strain. He had stopped visiting those bars that he hoped he’d catch a glimpse of that blue-haired man, and now the features of the man had already been blurred from his memory. Especially after that close incident with the victim in the alley. He had been continuously dreaming of nightmares since then, sometimes of his bleached self, or fragments of some memory he couldn’t remember but definitely knew he didn’t want to. People had been treating him differently then too. Some with pity, or treating him as if he was some fragile, traumatized thing, while others acted as if it was his fault and responsibility that the victim died. He could hear them mutter under their breath, that he could have stopped it if he actually walked faster. There were some who even thought he was the killer himself. Thankfully, his group of friends treated him the same, though they were now trying a little hard and insistent to make him rest more. It was annoying, but at least he knew they cared.

 Ichigo shook his head and drowned himself in the chatter and noise in the office of the other police officers and staff doing their work. Most of them were helping the homicide team, but they were the ones doing the front line stuff. The amount of people in the office sort of made him feel safe, but at the same time he was holding fear inside. And the fear wasn’t for himself, but for the people around him. He would admit, that after that incident in the alley, Ichigo had been noticing the way he looked at people more. Like he’d stare at someone and wonder, how would he kill him? How would he put him down, slow and messy or quick and silently? A chill went down his spine and Ichigo sat upright and shook his head again to clear his thoughts. No, he thought, he was just trying to think what the killer would do so that he can predict what he might do next. Ichigo wiped his face and drank his coffee, and after a short pause for breath, he turned back to his computer to resume his search for cold cases in the archives similar to the Rokuban Killer’s. The detective continued to browse through the old files despite his aching eyes, until one case finally caught his attention.

It was an unsolved double murder case that seemed to be infamous, yet they couldn’t land on any firm suspects. Ichigo looked at the date and saw that it was ten years ago. That was so long ago, it might not be related to the Rokuban Killer, but it sounded interesting enough for Ichigo to read further.

The victims were female and close friends, Loly Aivirrne and Menoly Mallia. They were found in the small woody area, about a kilometer away from town. It appeared that the woods were a common hang out place for teens then, but after the murders, it had been closed off from public. Ichigo found it quite amazing that for a ‘common’ hang out place for teenagers, the victims were only found three days after they died, and that their time of death was during daytime when teens should still be hanging around there. Ichigo read on and learned that their cause of death was a slit to the throat. _Hold on a second_ , Ichigo thought and looked through all the documents in the folders. He read the witness reports before he finally double-clicked the autopsy report and skimmed through it quickly. Once he finished, Ichigo thought he had struck gold.

The friends had been beaten brutally with a blunt object, most likely bare fists, and had their bones broken and dislocated. They also suffered internal bleeding from the assault, and would have died from internal hemorrhaging anyway if not for the cut to the throat.

“Hey guys, come here,” Ichigo called excitedly. The other detectives looked at each other for a brief second before they came over to his desk looking hopeful. Ichigo stepped away from his desk and let the rest have a look at the file on his monitor. “Read it.”

Rukia took Ichigo’s seat and read it out loud for the rest. When Rukia stopped, Ikkaku was the first one to break the silence.

“The M.O’s pretty similar: Getting the victims to a deserted area, beat the crap outta them, and finish off with a cut to the throat. But he didn’t dig a chunk out of the girls,” Ikkaku pointed out.

“The victims’ bodies weren’t moved too,” Yumichika chipped in. He reached forward to move the mouse and look at the file photos. “And ugh, it’s a little bit too messy than the Rokuban, isn’t it?”

“They did say the murder weapon is a possibly a military combat knife, and that the cuts were jagged from the way the killer slit their throat. It’s like as if the killer was having difficulty with the cutting, or that he was hesitant,” Rukia read out from the file.

“Murder weapon’s the same. Don’t you think a coincidence would be kinda farfetched? There aren’t many owners of combat knives in this town,” Renji said.

“But they’re girls,” Ikkaku reminded. “Ain’t the Rokuban some tough guy who only aimed for guys?”

“True, but this case is almost ten years old,” Rukia added when she checked the date. “It sounds a little old, though we’ve already concluded that this guy is at least mid twenties...”

“And from what we know, serials can start off from a young age. Some believe they start with animals before progressing to people, but what if the Rokuban had already started then? And his taste changed overtime? This could have been his first time or something,” Renji suggested.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Ichigo said. “The cases are pretty similar. Even the way he battered the victims is the same, with broken and dislocated bones. Only thing missing is the carvings. I don’t think it’s his first time – it’s still pretty well planned, but this could have been his early attempts.”

“Wait,” Rukia suddenly said as she stared at the screen. “The weapon… the cuts… I think I’ve seen a similar case like this, but it was a beheading, so I didn’t think…” She trailed off to rush back to her desk, where she looked through the stack of folders on it. She took out one and ran back to the group, holding the folder open. “This!”

“Victim’s name is Luppi Antenor in his early twenties,” Renji began when he took the folder from Rukia. “He was found at a dumpster six years ago with his head missing. He was identified through a tattoo on his hip. No witnesses but friends and family said he was a very blunt guy and can sometimes be offensive. He often got into fights for that but he always manages to win despite his small frame. The guys back then concluded that he was involved in a fight because of that, but it turned wrong and got killed. How stupid is that? Clearly it’s some psycho freak who was out cutting people up!”

“They probably thought the guy responsible wanted to hide his identity by taking away his face and head. And the murder weapon’s not a combat knife too so they didn’t see a link... they say it’s too clean, probably a kitchen knife or something,” Rukia recounted. “But the cut began at the jugular, and sliced through. The neck bone was hacked at, so it was all jagged and cracked. The killer definitely tried to cut through it with a sharp object smaller than an axe.”

“The M.O.’s the same, bringing to back alleys, beaten up and then killed. The victim was moved too,” Yumichika listed out. “But the beheading…”

“Maybe the killer knew the guy at a personal level? Maybe he was so offended by something the guy did he removed his head?” Ichigo theorized. “The M.O is the same, except for the end result. Usually some things change depending on the emotions right?”

“Huh, I’d never think the Rokuban would have any emotions in the first place if he can fuck up somebody like that,” Ikkaku said. Yumichika just glanced at Ichigo, who frowned slightly in return with that accusing look. The two had always been the most skeptical one towards him.

“We better look for more similar cases,” Rukia continued. “Ah, Urahara!” The group turned to the door. The captain was just standing there observing them.

“Don’t mind me, carry on,” Urahara told them with that sly smile of his.

“You’re supposed to be busy,” Rukia chided. “I assume you were listening, any take on that?”

“Just send me the files, and go look for more. I think you guys pretty much are on the right track.”

“What about the psychiatrists’ reports?” Ichigo asked.

“Ah, right,” Urahara moved to the meeting room and gestured them to follow him. “First things first, we have yet to get a profiler to help with the profiling, so we’ve turned to one that is close to that. He’s had experience with criminal profiling, so he’s quite reliable, I suppose. We’ve got some other psychiatrists and psychologists as well, but he’d be the top of it.” Ichigo already knew who Urahara was talking about but remained silent as everyone took their seats. “Dr Aizen Sousuke’s looked through all the reports, opinions and studied the cases closely as well, and here we have the profile. They may not be right, but this is the best we can get to narrow in on him.” Urahara stood up and approached the whiteboard on the wall with a marker. He wrote down a summarized list of the profile for the killer.

“From the profile, the Rokuban is said to be ‘a man probably the age of between twenties to thirties; may be attractive and/or charming but definitely well-groomed and presentable; has a rather large muscular built; doesn’t have any friends or very few; knows his way around the alleys at least, or even the whole town; and may be a western foreigner who has lived in Karakura for a long time’.”

“Why a western foreigner?” Renji asked.

“Hm,” Urhara hummed and looked through the papers in his hand. “Said the European themed bars all the victims were last seen in could have been his comfortable place that reminded him of home.” Renji nodded and wrote it down. “That’s for physical profile. Psychologically, he’s obviously quite narcissistic and wants to be known for his crimes since he did lay out his kills in easily found spots.  They believe that the man is ‘emotionally stunted, with feelings of mainly self-importance, desire, anger and hate. He is impulsive and aggressive but knows how to blend in and not stand out’.” Ichigo took down everything Urahara had said and written down on the board. So far his assumptions for the Rokuban matched the profile, and he felt what he saw in that blue-haired man was the same too. Only that he never thought his bright blue hair could not stand out.

“So shouldn’t we be staking out at the bars?” Ikkaku asked.

“I already did, but no one I saw fits the profile,” Ichigo blurted out. Everyone looked at him.

“Personal investigation, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara asked kindly.

“Yes, but there’s nothing I found that’s new,” Ichigo lied but trying to keep his expression blank.

“But you sound like you knew about this connection of the bars.”

“It was pretty obvious so I assumed you guys knew…”

“You were reminded to keep me updated of whatever you find so that we can share the information and work together, Kurosaki-san, no matter whether we knew it or not so that we can log it,” Urahara said, but still in that understanding tone that Ichigo was grateful for.

“Were you looking for that blue-haired guy you’re so obsessed with?” Yumichika added, earning a glare from Ichigo for his sarcastic tone.

“I did say that there have been witness reports of the same guy with the victims,” Ichigo shot back.

“And how would you know it is the same guy?”

“You-“ 

“Enough,” Urahara interrupted. The both of them shut up. Urahara wasn’t talking in that nice guy tone anymore. “We’re working together, not individually, so I expect teamwork unless you want to be out of the team, understood?” 

“Yes,” the team responded, with Ichigo muttering his under his breath.

“That’s all for now, but I expect you guys to dig up more cold cases similar to the ones you guys were discussing earlier, and reexamine the evidence. I will repeat this to the patrolling officers so that they can be on the lookout, and I’ll also release the information of the physical profile to the public. As usual, get back to me after all that,” Urahara said and dismissed the team, but not without holding Ichigo back. “Kurosaki-san, stay behind.” Ichigo kept his mouth shut as his colleagues filed out of the room quietly. Urahara can be scary when he wanted to, especially when he has an intense unsmiling stare instead of his usual goofy smile. 

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo said the moment the door behind him closed. Urahara’s expression softened slightly. “You know I’m not good at working with people…” Now he was making excuses, how stupid, Ichigo thought to himself. “Ugh, nevermind.”

“It’s okay, Kurosaki-san, I know,” the captain replied. “I just want to know how you’ve been doing after that incident.”

 _Oh_ , Ichigo thought. _It’s always about that_. “I’m fine. It was nothing. I did go to that bastard psychiatrist though,” Ichigo admitted. “I don’t really care if he tells you what I tell him, but I guess I do need some help.” 

“Though I wouldn’t mind hearing your story, I’m afraid Aizen’s a little strict on the patient confidentiality policy,” Urahara told him with a tired smile.

“I just felt like I kinda… almost lost it when I saw all that blood,” Ichigo said. “But other than that I’m fine.”

“How are the nightmares?” Ichigo stared at the older man. “You can’t hide it from me Ichigo, I’ve known you since you were a kid, and I’ve known about your nightmares then and I’m sure they’re still haunting you now.” Urahara’s use of his first name made it feel all too personal and though yes, indeed the man knew him since he was young, Ichigo never felt that close to him. He never felt close to anyone.

“Not as much as last time,” Ichigo said firmly. “Just some insomnia and the usual workaholic mode that I’m on that are keeping me up. Sleeping pills help.” Urahara sighed at his reply.

“I want you to keep seeing Dr Aizen okay? It’s an order,” Urahara said. “It’s for your own good Kurosaki-san.”

“Okay,” Ichigo replied blankly and stood up to leave the room. He couldn’t be bothered anymore. Nobody understood, and he felt like he should just do it to avoid trouble. The moment Ichigo got out of the meeting room, he suddenly felt tired.

 _Ichigo_ , the detective turned around, when he thought he heard someone call him, but there was no one looking at him among all the other staff who were rushing about. He ignored it and sat back at his desk to rest. For the rest of the day, Ichigo couldn’t remember what he did.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Ichigo remained in that state for another couple of weeks after the talk with Urahara and that strange voice calling out to him. It was like his waking moment consisted of either awareness or extreme dreamy state. Even his colleagues had been looking at him strangely. Renji and Rukia didn’t approach him either. Instead, they look scared, while the other two just glared at him like he had done something wrong. What had he done? Ichigo didn’t know, but he just felt really dazed sometimes.

He was fully aware that he visited Aizen a couple of times over the period of time though. As usual, the psychiatrist asked him questions and slowly he probed deeper. Ichigo talked, answering in short, curt replies in a matter-of-fact way. He still hated the man, who never ceased his condescending forced smile and his invasive questions. And then today was another session.

He had come again after another day of digging up more cold cases since the month passed by without any incident or more murders. The whole team had collected a stack of cases that was highly likely related to the Rokuban, but there was no definitive connection for some of the cases. Some had extremely similar M.O, while others had the murder weapons described as a combat knife, and others just had the finishing blow that was the same. Looking back at the evidence didn’t help either. There wasn’t much to look at, and whatever DNA samples that could have helped were lost, destroyed or too old. All of the cases had no prime suspects too, but what other suspects in the list had been questioned and none of them fit the profile. The team had met a dead end once again.

Ichigo meanwhile had been trying to figure out why the cases were so different yet so similar. He wondered: If he were the killer, what would he do?

 _Experiment, aibou_ , the distorted voice had offered distantly in his head. Ichigo felt chills when he heard the voice. He hadn’t heard it for a while and to hear it again was making him nervous again. And that was why he hurriedly visited the psychiatrist after work, just to assure himself.

As usual, Aizen began with warming-up questions, that related to what he had been doing recently. Ichigo however, was feeling impatient.

“I heard him again,” Ichigo said.

“The ‘bad’ one?” Aizen asked, sounding very interested. Ichigo shrugged.

“He said… Well, I was thinking about why the cases were so different but seemed to have a particular connection as if made by the same person, so I thought… What would I do if I were the killer? Why do things differently at first and then do it the same way simultaneously after that?” Ichigo replied breathlessly as if in a rush. “And then it said...  ‘experiment, aibou, we’d like to experiment’.” Ichigo immediately fell into silence, looking rather blank rather than disturbed. Aizen watched him before leaning back to his chair.

“He sounds like he’s giving you tips, but apparently he likes to work together with you,” the psychiatrist said. Ichigo looked up, his eyes gleaming in a different way which Aizen noticed. “By the way, Kurosaki-kun, did you know that you’ve not been yourself lately?” The detective’s eyes looked down briefly but looked back up and the glint in his eye was gone.

“No… But I’ve noticed people looking at me different,” Ichigo muttered.

“That’s because you _are_ different even though you don’t notice it. You ever feel like you’ve lost some time or that everything goes by faster than you thought?" 

“Well, yeah…”

“You’re experiencing a fugue, and when you experience that, apparently the other you takes over,” Ichigo looked at the man sitting across him skeptically.

“What, like Dr Jeckyl and Mr Hyde?” 

“That’s the layman term of the syndrome, yes.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Your captain has told me you have been acting weirdly and you shut everyone off, and then you go off for breaks but return only hours later,” Aizen informed him. 

“My god,” Ichigo whispered. “I… I didn’t hurt anyone did I? Fuck.”

“No, as I told you, your captain has been watching you, closely. You just go off to a café, sit and watch people for long periods of time,” Aizen said and narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’ve gone through this before?” 

“I…” Ichigo’s mind was clouded with thoughts he swore he had locked away. He felt the rumbling of the others in the back of his head, as if they were moving excitedly and then –

“Aizen-san, Detective Kurosaki’s session is over, and the next patient is here,” the secretary Hinamori reminded when she opened the door and peeked in after a quick knock.

“Ah, yes, alright then,” Aizen said quietly. He turned back to Ichigo. “We’ll continue this next time.”

And Ichigo left the building as quietly as he came, his mind too occupied with old memories. He ate dinner and walked home. By then it was almost eleven. Ichigo got home just in time to hear his phone ringing. He rushed to the phone to answer it, expecting Urahara or any of his other friends. But instead, Ichigo found himself almost shivering at the growling deepness of the voice on the other line.

“Hello Kurosaki,” the voice began. He didn’t recognize the voice at all.

“Who the hell is this?” Ichigo asked, his voice low. The caller ignored him and continued.

“I’ve been watching you very closely, Detective. I know who you really are, but now I want to know how strong you can get. I want to know…” A short breathy pause. “Whether you’re worthy of killing.” Ichigo could almost feel the man smiling on the other line, but for some strange it made him shiver with excitement. This was definitely the Rokuban, not just some prankster. No prank caller could sound this dangerous, this… _predatory_. The next few words the man uttered had Ichigo holding his breath. “Another one for you, at the outskirts of the town. And by the way, I’m known as ‘Sexta’, not ‘Rokuban’.”

The man hung up right after that, and Ichigo let out a loud exhale of breath. What the hell was that? Not wasting another moment, Ichigo called up Urahara.


	6. Chapter 6

Ichigo followed some officers who were searching the edges of the city, accompanied by Urahara. His other colleagues were at other parts, also searching for a body. After the call from the man whom Ichigo believed to be the Rokuban, the captain had initiated a search. Ichigo could remember the words the caller had uttered, and he couldn't get it out of his head.

'Another one for you, at the outskirts of town,' the man had said.  _For you,_ Ichigo thought.  _For me, for us_ , the other one added. Ichigo walked faster, ahead of the officers as they looked through the alleys that led to the outer parts of the town. He could feel Urahara watching him closely, and it was annoying. It was already almost three a.m., and everyone was surely tired and grouchy, him included. But that didn't stop Ichigo from thinking of the caller over and over again. The name he gave – 'Sexta'. Was that a name? A number? It sounded European; they'd have to check the list of foreigners again. The Rokuban was giving him a clue…

He thought over what the caller had said again. He said he knew who Ichigo really was. What did he mean by that? He wanted to know how strong he was and that… whether he was worthy of killing. Was Ichigo to be his next target? Did that mean he was going to test his strength too?

"Kurosaki-san," Urahara tapped him on the shoulder. "Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san have found the body on the other side of town."

"O…Okay," Ichigo replied weakly. Putting his thoughts aside, Ichigo followed the captain to his car, which they took to the scene.

"I told them it was an anonymous tip," Urahara suddenly said halfway through the ride. His eyes didn't leave the road, and his hands remained on the wheel even as he spoke to Ichigo.

"What?" the detective was still not concentrating.

"I told them this search is triggered by a suspicious anonymous tip," Urahara repeated. "If I told them it was you, you'd be under investigation again, and I know you have nothing to do with this, because I have been watching you."

"How close?" Ichigo asked curtly. No wonder he had been feeling like someone was watching him all the while, though it was faint.

"Close enough to know when you reach or leave home," Urahara said, a little softer this time. "Aizen suggested I did so, and I felt that I should too."

"Tsk…" Ichigo knew this was for his sake and sighed. "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't worry, I didn't put any cameras in your house," Urahara assured. It was assuring, but only to a certain extent. "But I really want to know why the Rokuban would call you. And what he said to you."

"I don't know, but he said he's 'Sexta', not Rokuban," Ichigo told him.

"Sexta? The Sixth? It's practically the same as Rokuban, but why must it be Spanish? Though, I'd say he's giving a lot away just by telling you that."

"No idea. But that'll help us a lot, right? We can narrow the list of suspects down even further."

"Of course," Urahara merely said but sounding deep in thought. He continued driving silently for a few more minutes, and then raised his head slightly. They were reaching soon. "Let's see if it's really the Rokuban instead of a prankster or copycat." Both of them exited the car and walked towards the scene where the investigators were busy taking pictures and collecting evidence. The rest of team was already there.

It was a few hundred meters away from the edge of town, right by the isolated road that connected the next town and Karakura. The team and a few officers stood around a body that was lying face-down on the yellowed grass patch. Flies had begun to buzz around the body. A number of investigators had just arrived, carrying their kits while the officers taped up the area.

"Hey, Ichigo," Rukia greeted with a tired, forced smile. She looked like she was trying to stay awake. Ichigo smiled back apologetically.

"So… what do we have?" Ichigo asked.

"The usual," Ikkaku answered, looking more grumpy than usual.

"Killed at some other place and dumped here," his effeminate partner added. "Who is this anonymous tip off again?"

"It's called 'anonymous' for a reason," Renji said. He looked unusually grumpy too, but then again, it was late and everyone was tired.

"What I meant is how could this person know about this? Usually people who discover the body stay here for questioning by police, shaken up and all that," Yumichika continued. "Unless, it's the killer himself."

"Did you get the tip-off directly, Urahara?" Rukia asked. Ichigo wanted to speak, but Urahara cut him off.

"Via a call, yes," the man said firmly. Urahara had always been a great liar. "His voice was raspy and low, so I think he used some machine to cover it. And it's by public phone too."

"Clever bastard," Renji muttered.

"We'll discuss more about this back at the office after we've gone through the usual procedures, okay?" Urahara said. The team nodded and did their work. Ichigo did so too, but quietly and avoiding everyone's eye.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Even after a few days of forensics and investigation, there wasn't anything new that the team could get from the latest victim either. He was just the others: lured out, beaten up, slaughtered and dumped. Knowing the caller knew Spanish made no difference; they already went through the list of people who was educated in the language, but there was just no one who stood out. So once again, they were met with a dead end. The whole team wasn't giving up hope, and continued their work quietly even with the media and public's mounting pressure. With a total of seven kills by the same killer, and more being uncovered from old cases, the public was getting scared. Most of the residents were already making their own curfews and returning indoors no later than 11pm. Urahara had released controlled information to the media, warning and advising the public not to go along with strangers no matter how kind or good-looking they may be, especially at bars.

Off-duty, Ichigo had been trying to trace the caller. It was by public phone which was still traceable, and when he reached the end of the rope, it was a public phone in the center of town, and also the center of where all the bodies had been dumped. It almost didn't help at all. Sessions with Aizen continued as well, but the detective was feeling restless. He felt he had not made much progress from merely talking about the voices, his apparent dazedness or past. Especially when he hated and feared the latter. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, a dead end, and it was making Ichigo more frustrated than he thought possible.

He decided to do what most stressed and frustrated people do: get drunk.

Since he had pretty much become a regular at the bars he had been staking out, he decided,  _What the heck, I didn't see that blue haired guy anywhere nor anyone who could be the Rokuban anyway_.

After work, he went straight to one of the bars. He grabbed his hat and coat, and headed there. He didn't bother remembering the name, but the patrons there were more interesting. He approached the counter, where the blonde haired barkeep was entertaining three women who were chatting rowdily. Her turquoise eyes glanced at him and showed the briefest hint of surprise and pardoned herself from the group to greet him.

"Hello detective," she said smoothly. "It's been a while since your last visit. How has your work been?" Ichigo sat down grumpily.

"Would you mind not calling me that? It'll attract attention," Ichigo told her and she responded with a smile to acknowledge it. "And no, it hasn't been great. Haven't you seen the news?" She nodded quietly. He sighed and felt a little guilty at his snappiness. "What about you? Aren't you scared about a psycho killer on the loose? Aren't all these people scared?" He looked at the other people in the bar.

"I heard most of them aren't scared because the killer mostly targets burly men who look like they can fight," she said with a thoughtful look. "I can take care of myself, and I have a business to run." Ichigo smiled at the woman's boldness, even admiring it a little. "So what would you like?" she asked. Ichigo looked at the display bottles behind her and frowned, not recognizing any of the names. "Anything strong but not too strong, for me, whatever it is."

"Are you sure a non-drinker like you should be drinking without a friend to look out for you?" she asked but took one of the bottles and poured its contents into a glass of ice anyway.

"Yes, I'm sure. I need it," Ichigo replied. He took a fast swig of what she had given him and grimaced at its strong bitter taste. "That tastes horrible." The woman shrugged at him but Ichigo was already feeling its effects. After a moment of trying to get used to the heat in his stomach, he then asked her, "How can you read people so easily?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can tell who I am by just looking at me. And that I'm a non-drinker, things like that."

"It's pretty obvious from body language, dressing, and even the choice of words used," the female barkeep replied with an amused smirk.

"It may be stereotypical, but sometimes that the easiest way to do it, and you might be right."

"First impressions then," he muttered and drank some more. The woman refilled his glass whenever he asked for it. Either it was because he was not used to alcohol or that whatever she gave him was strong, because Ichigo was already getting dizzy from his second glass. He felt a little shitty, but also a little light-headed, but then again this was what he wanted. He wondered if Urahara was still watching him, but the man had been busier after the latest victim. He did lie for him after all, and that itself was against the law, and was going through investigation for that tip off he supposedly received. Ichigo felt crappy at how much trouble he was causing his captain, and gulped down his third glass.

"Kurosaki, are you okay?" he heard the woman ask.

"How'd you know my name?" he was starting to slur.

"You told me not to call you 'detective', and you are a pretty well known one," she said.

"Right," Ichigo said.  _Fucking media._ He straightened himself up on his seat but leaned forward against the counter. "I'm fine… Since you know mine isn't it polite to tell me yours?"

"Halibel, owner and barkeep of this bar," she told him.

"Foreigner, huh? How long have you been staying in Karakura?"

"Quite a long while. It's a nice place to live in, and as you can see I'm not that alone," Halibel replied him as she nodded to the rowdy group of women she was talking to before. She refilled his empty glass but he stopped her.

"This is going to be pricey, right?" she smiled at him.

"You're a special first-time guest, so I'll let it be half price." She filled the small glass.

"Police benefit?"

"Not really. I'm not fond of them," she admitted.

"So why…?"

"Maybe because you give me the impression that you're like us," the barkeep said quietly. "Not saying because of your hair or your looks, but there's just something…" Her sentence trailed off as the woman entertained the other patrons at the counter.

"'You're like us', she said," Ichigo murmured to himself. He felt weird hearing it. He looked at the other club-goers. They were mostly foreigners, with strange colored hair, sharp features with a charismatic aura. Some of them looked almost proud, while others either looked quiet or just plain loud or nasty. Was he really like them?  _You're just like them,_ Ichigo told himself. Or was it the other's voice? It sounded just like when he was eavesdropping on Urahara who was describing about him to Aizen over the phone.  _Just like them, just like those killers_. Ichigo drank his fourth glass and felt the heat of the alcohol surge through him. His vision was getting more than just unbalanced.

"Kurosaki," he heard the woman call him again, but now in a low whisper, and she was leaning a bit close to him. "He's here."

"Who?"

"The blue-eyed man." Ichigo whirled around, but was just in time to remember that he shouldn't. He stared at his almost empty glass. Thankfully he had his hat on, so his orange hair wasn't so noticeable. He didn't get to see the man she mentioned, and trying his luck, he turned his head to look.

And there he was, sitting a few seats away from him. The man didn't wear his cap this time, and now he sat there almost obnoxiously with his bright blue hair and eyes and looking straight ahead of him to look at the display bottles of alcohol, completely ignoring Ichigo. But  _those eyes._  It was definitely him. And he was probably the blue-haired man seen around the victims before they died.  _This is the guy_ , he told himself.  _This is the Rokuban, the Sexta!_  Ichigo knew it was him, but he couldn't do anything to him at the moment. He couldn't possibly arrest a man who looked at him with what he thought was a killer's look or just because he was last seen with some of the victims. People would think he was mad, which he very well may be.

He stopped staring and turned back to look at his glass. He realized his head had somewhat cleared from all the sudden excitement. He contemplated on whether to act like a normal customer and ask for another drink, but he heard the man call for the barkeep instead.

"Oi, woman," he called rudely. The same growling voice. It sent shivers down Ichigo's spine. The Rokuban – or Sexta, as he said he preferred to be called – was just a seat away from him! What should he do now? How can he get this guy behind bars? Ichigo calmed himself down and told himself slowly: watch him, follow him. There might be a chance he might strike again. It wasn't confirmed that the Sexta would display each victim he kills. He could have killed twice the amount of what the police had found so far, and hid the bodies somewhere secret. He watched from the corner of his eye as Halibel walked past him and to the blue-haired man.

Ichigo was getting nervous. Did he recognize him? He had taken a good look at Ichigo in the organ dumping scene before. Would he have forgotten his face by then? He hoped the hat covering his hair was of use. His hair was the first thing people would remember about him. "A beer," Ichigo heard the man say. He dared not look directly at them and just listened at the clinking of bottles and mugs. Halibel left him with a full mug of his beer and was walking back to the other end but Ichigo raised his hand stiffly, calling her to him. She eyed him oddly, but moved towards him anyway, bringing the bottle of his alcohol along.

"Another glass?" she asked with a tone that had him thinking twice. Ichigo nodded. She poured the clear liquid into his glass and left him alone. Ichigo was sure the man didn't even turn his head towards his direction, and sipped at his drink slowly. He wanted to grimace at the taste again, and almost wanted to gulp it down fast but told himself he shouldn't. He needed a clear head for this. Which was a bit too late, since he was already tipsy and his dizziness was returning after the excitement was gone.

He then heard another voice chatting with the Sexta. Ichigo watched as discreetly as possible. Another man, tall, large and burly with half his head of red hair shaved, was having a conversation with him. The man looked like he could beat down the Sexta with brute strength, but Ichigo had learned not to judge. The large man looked foreign, and from whatever they were talking about, it sounded like it was in a foreign language as well. Ichigo waited and played with his drink, hoping the Sexta would make a move. He felt a little bad that he was hoping the man to be the next victim, but Ichigo tried to compensate it by swearing he'd stop the Sexta before he ever got the chance to hurt him. That was the plan, but no plan ever goes smoothly.

They were actually taking a long while. They talked for what seemed like an hour, but Ichigo kept on watching. He had refilled his drink one more time, and was quite proud that he was actually holding himself well against the alcohol. But the two of them appeared to be friends. Can monsters such as him have friends? In the back of his mind, he wondered if the question was directed towards himself as well. Finally, the men stood up. Ichigo tried not to look alarmed.

They began to head towards the door. Ichigo hurried with the money and placed it on the countertop by his glass as he locked eyes with the blonde bartender. "Thanks, Halibel-san," she nodded at him and he slowly followed after the men.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

He was amused by how naïve the detective was. Did he really think he didn't notice him? True, his hair was covered by the hat, but he could recognize that face, that figure, that smell of a fellow predator anywhere. It was almost laughable to see him sitting there, stiffly and trying to shrink himself so as not to be noticed. Obviously he knew who he was. Kurosaki must have imprinted his face in his own head when they first saw each other.

He would admit he had been excited ever since he heard the detective's voice in his ear. He enjoyed every word, gasp and intake of breath that came from the receiver as he spoke to him over the phone. He could hear the shiver in his voice and knew that the detective enjoyed it as much as he did too. His patience had been wearing thin, his need growing out of control. He had stopped following Kurosaki after the call to give both of them space. He needed to cool off. He needed to be away from Kurosaki before he got addicted.

But seeing him in the bar, out in the open made him act out of impulse. Despite going against his usual way, he didn't mind the change. Change was good. And he knew the night was going to be good too, for having the detective served to him right there, almost like on a platter. Of course, it was still too soon. He was just going to toy with him.

He met his colleague whom he initially went to the bar for. People always wanted to meet and talk, for god knows what reason. He'd have to play the part as the lamb anyway. Besides, bars always made him a bit more at ease. It was a pen of lambs; of course he would be at ease.

" _It's been a while_ ," the larger man said in Spanish. They preferred speaking in their own tongue rather than Japanese so that they can have some sort of privacy. And he had always insisted the not to use names. " _What have you been doing?"_

" _Playing around, I've found a new toy to play with_ ," he replied. The other raised an eyebrow in interest, thought he knew the man didn't understand what he meant by that. Most of them assumed it would be some woman he was toying around with. It wasn't entirely untrue. He liked to toy with them, but he'd rather men. Women were weak, helpless, unworthy to be killed by him – unless they wouldn't shut up and leave him alone, like the two girls many years before.

They continued talking, mainly about work or social life. He was used talking lies, but he was really just concentrating on the detective who was watching them quietly. From the look in his eye, he was sure the young man was assuming that his colleague was a possible victim. He could also tell from his eyes that the detective was tipsy. He decided to make use of that. After a long talk, they finally got up. They moved towards the door. He knew Kurosaki would follow.

They got out the door. He walked along with his colleague and could almost feel the detective not far away behind them. They walked into an alley which they frequently used. They took a turn, where his colleague would go the other way. He took the one opposite, where he waited for the detective. He heard hurried footsteps, and the clumsy sounds told him how tipsy Kurosaki was. He hid behind a wall. Kurosaki emerged and walked to the middle of the pathway. He was looking around, looking confused and red from the alcohol.

He moved towards him, fast.

The detective barely managed to see him before he was pinned to the nearest wall, cheek against the brick with his arms folded against his back. His hat had been knocked back in the scuffle to reveal the bright orange hair that almost glowed in the dark lighting.

He gasped, "You-!" Kurosaki smelled of sweat, alcohol, and a tiny bit of fear. He grinned, legs and one hand pressing against the younger man's, while the free one moved to the front and grabbed the detective's chin. The smaller man struggled.

"Hello detective," he drawled with his lips pressed against Kurosaki's ear. The detective stopped moving and he caught the slight shudder that ran through his body. He grinned wider at the reaction. "How was the gift?" Kurosaki's eye looked at him questioningly, asking what the hell he was talking about. "Don't you remember?  _Another one for you._ "

His eyes widened and for a moment he thought the brown gleamed gold. That's what he wanted to see. "I told you, I know who you are. Why are you denying it?" The younger man was trembling under him, but he knew it wasn't out of fear. God, the look on his face, his smell, the emotion in his eyes – they were intoxicating. His grip moved from the detective's chin to his throat, where he could feel his pulse quickening in his grasp.

"Get off me, I'm warning you," Kurosaki said, his voice low. He no longer looked scared. His eyes were gold now, and he knew that the monster was here.

"Show me how strong you are," he breathed into his ear. Kurosaki smiled.

He saw orange as the detective jerked his head back and hitting his. He took a few steps back, felt a punch hit him square in the jaw and a hard kick to his stomach that had him double over. He grinned at the taste of blood in his mouth and stared at Kurosaki. He was smiling, with his hair messy and his eyes a dead, beautiful gold staring back at him. He had never felt so excited in his life.

"That's what I want to see!" he cackled and charged towards Kurosaki, sending a kick to his side that the other blocked. He gave a quick punch as he recovered, Kurosaki groaning and staggering back. They fought like they were fighting for their life, but it seemed almost never ending, as if they were too equally strong or that neither of them wanted to end it. He had earned more than just a few punches, but loved every throbbing pain on his body. Kurosaki didn't look any better, but it was clear he was starting to lose his stamina and was getting distracted. He noticed the gold eyes were fading back to brown.

He caught Kurosaki's punch in his hand and countered by smashing his fist to the younger man's forehead. It sent the younger man reeling back and stumbling onto the ground. Kurosaki grunted in pain, his forehead bleeding from a cut where he had been punched. He eyed the figure with hungry eyes, fuelled by the adrenaline still rushing through his body. He quickly moved over the detective, and could smell the same thing from him. It was a pity that he ruined his pretty face a little. Still smiling, he flipped Kurosaki onto his stomach and pressed himself against him to pin him on the ground. One hand brought his chin up to bare his neck. He pressed his lips, now cut and bloodied, to Kurosaki's ear and felt him shudder again.

"We're the same." The detective struggled, growling furiously.

"Don't put me down to the level of sick fucks like you!"

"Liar," he said and slid his other hand to his front, lower and lower. Kurosaki made a sound that was neither a whimper nor a growl and gritted his teeth as he held Kurosaki's crotch and squeezed lightly. Kurosaki was hard. "You know we are." He pressed harder against him and Kurosaki went stiff, feeling his own excitement against him. Everything was silent, leaving only Kurosaki's deep controlled breathing.

He smelled good enough to eat, and with the blood and bruises he definitely  _looked_  good enough to eat. He couldn't help but flicked his tongue out and ran it along the shell of Kurosaki's ear. The other's breath hitched and he felt him twitch under his hand. He tasted so good, and he hadn't even cut him open yet.

His hand left Kurosaki's lower body and dipped in his own pocket to fish out his knife. The detective seemed to know.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked, but in an angry tone. He didn't sound resigned. Good.

"No," he replied, lips still against his ear. "Not yet."

He forced his fingers in Kurosaki's mouth, uncaring that he was biting hard on it. He felt his skin break and blood flowing. Kurosaki would enjoy that, he knew. Grinning again, he pressed Kurosaki's head down and pulled up his shirt to bare his back. Kurosaki was breathing hard, fear and anger seemingly rising as he struggled. Of course, he had his whole weight on Kurosaki; the detective couldn't even budge.

His fingers first felt the smooth skin of Kurosaki's back. So soft, so delicate, but they were still hard and muscular in the right places. He almost wanted to kiss the skin, but he'd save for that later. He traced the arc and dip of the detective's spine before he let his whole palm run over the skin. He leaned over to whisper his last few words to Kurosaki before he would begin, "My name…" He let the tip of his knife dip past the skin of Kurosaki's back and into his back. The young man groaned and panted, his body starting to tremble from the pain. "…is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

He then began his branding of his special prey.


	7. Chapter 7

Ichigo awoke and felt his body aching everywhere, his face, his limbs, and especially his back. Where was he? He was lying on the ground, face-first, on the rough concrete of some dirty alley. He tasted blood in his mouth and licked his dry lips. He moved and felt some sort of pain sear his back and he fell back on his stomach. He felt like he'd been clawed pretty bad but the pain was dulled, as if he was detached from the feeling. He reached over his stinging back and lightly touched the wound.

"Fuck," Ichigo muttered. It felt bad, but he didn't feel the pain he thought he should be feeling. His body ached badly though. " _Fuck._ " He felt the carved skin there, bloodied badly but the blood had begun to dry. What time was it? He frankly didn't care, and instead he began to remember what had happened, though some parts were still blank.

He was planning to get drunk, and then the Sexta showed up when he didn't want to. He followed him, got ambushed by him, pinned up against the wall and… they fought? Those were the fuzzy parts, but he did remember throwing punches and receiving them. It all felt like a bad dream. But the aching bruises on his body told him it did happen.

So what now? He wanted to get home to clean himself up, to get his proper rest, to let everything sink in. It just felt so fast. He groaned as he tried to stand up and began to walk, using the walls as support. All he wanted at the moment was to get home.

Strangely enough, he did manage to get to his apartment albeit slowly and painfully. Even though he passed by a couple of people, nobody seemed to give him a second glance, which was weird because his shirt was covered in his own blood from his wounds. Ignoring it, he dragged himself to the bathroom and stripped himself naked, making himself shiver at the low temperature surrounding his warm skin. He turned on the shower anyway and sat against the wall, leaving space for his scarred back to not touch the cold tiles. The detective hissed as the cold water hit him; his whole body felt like it was creaking from the cuts, bruises and tired muscles. His back merely stung from the branding.

He inhaled deeply and recounted the previous night.

The Sexta's voice rang in his ears. Once again he felt his lips against his skin, his calloused fingers moving harshly over his neck and his breath in his hair. He remembered how his fists connected with the other's face, and the sound of bone meeting bone, flesh meeting flesh, and the feeling was beyond satisfaction. The pained grunts the man made, and the blood – whether it was the Sexta's or his own, it didn't matter. Thinking of it made his breath hitch and he felt his body reacting. He remembered his arousal then, and felt another one now. Ichigo groaned as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged while the memory of their short fight replayed in his head.

It was the only moment in his life had he ever felt so excited and alive.

The pain and cold seemed to fade from his senses while Ichigo only concentrated on the pleasure. The Sexta had noticed his excitement, teased him about it, but made his own arousal known to Ichigo. Ichigo could  _feel_ him, and with his breath and voice in his ear, Ichigo had felt himself twitch. He stroked himself furiously when he recounted the fingers in his mouth, salty and sweet, almost like tasting death. And then Ichigo had bit on them, breaking the skin and letting the blood flow. The taste of iron was still fresh in his mouth.

Ichigo licked his lips.

He grunted as he imagined the man rubbing harder against him. The Sexta had grabbed his crotch too, and his imagination took it further: the man slipped his hand into his pants and began to jerk him off. The pain in his body was a slight distraction, but it only fueled Ichigo's pleasure.

The pain.

Ichigo tasted a glimpse of it. The rest of it, had gone to god knows where. It had always been like that.

He felt the Sexta moving,  _heard_ the blade being pulled out of his pockets and for a moment he was scared. But the fear went away. The moment the man pulled up his shirt and touched his back he almost groaned. His voice, so deep and growling. Then the blade was on him. Oh god, the pain. It made him want to tear his hair out. It made him want to scream until he choked. It hurt so much, but yet it soon dulled…

Was he sick for being so goddamned hard at the moment?

_Pain and pleasure aren't very different…_

Ichigo ignored the mocking voice and concentrated on the water pouring down on him. The cold shower barely affected him; it only made Ichigo think of the Sexta's warm body and hot breath on his skin, the warmth of his own blood trickling down his chin He replayed the man's voice whispering into his ear, over and over again. The Sexta had given his name. What was it?

"Grimmjow," Ichigo muttered out loud in answer and his hand moved faster. He began to pant, a sign he was reaching his peak. " _Grimmjow_." He repeated the name endlessly. He recounted the way the man spoke his name, the way his low voice said hello, the cold steel on his back, and then there was the slick tongue that licked at his ear and –  _oh god –_ Ichigo imagined it on his cock and he knew he was gone.

Moaning, Ichigo's body shuddered as he came. His hot semen spattered over his body, but was soon washed away by the shower. Ichigo breathed heavily to catch his breath. He felt tired immediately after that and wished he could just sleep in the shower. He felt a bit disgusted at himself, thinking about a monster like that, but was really too tired to think about it. Forcing himself up, he slapped on some soap, tried not to make a sound as he cleaned his wounds and dressed himself in his boxers and tee as carefully as he could.

He dragged himself towards his bed and dropped his body face first onto the mattress, uncaring about his barely dried body and his damp hair on the pillows.

What was it about the man that made Ichigo react this way? The Sexta – Grimmjow – was dangerous; he had killed so many, had assaulted him and threatened to kill him. Yet Ichigo only felt a rush of excitement. Were they really the same? They both reacted the same way; there was the desire to hurt and kill but there was also excitement in  _another_  way. His blue hair was all Ichigo could see and remember in his tipsy state in those moments but was pulled to it, like a moth attracted to blue flame.

Fatigue overcame him and muddled his thoughts, before Ichigo finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ichigo! Ichigo!" Loud banging noises. Ichigo stirred awake. Who was making all that ruckus? His body was still aching, but he felt better after sleep. "Ichigo! Are you in there?" Ichigo sat up in his bed, still drowsy, but whoever at his door was making a lot of noise. He trudged to the door and opened it. It was Renji. He looked relieved.

"What?" Ichigo asked snappily.

"Ichigo, you look like shit," Renji said truthfully. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Why are you making so much noise in the morning?" Ichigo groaned and sat at his sofa. Renji stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"It's not morning, Ichigo, it's already mid afternoon," Renji told him, and Ichigo looked at his wall clock. Renji was right. "We were wondering why you weren't at work, and called your apartment phone. Nobody picked up and we were getting worried. Urahara-san had me come here to check on you to make sure you're not dead or anything."

Ichigo sighed tiredly. He needed a drink. Maybe of what that female bartender had given him last night. Renji asked again.

"What happened to you, Ichigo?" The red-haired man's voice was gentler this time, and Ichigo could tell he was really worried. The younger man looked at him apologetically.

"I got into a bar fight," he said with a faint smile.

"Well that explains your shitty face," Renji smirked and came forward to sit beside him. Ichigo moved aside to give him space. "But you don't drink, so where'd you get the idea where to go?"

"Some random bar, don't know the name," Ichigo said tiredly. "I just wanted to get drunk."

"Why'd you go without us? We could've gone with you…"

"I needed some time alone," Ichigo cut in. "Things haven't been going so well with the investigation, a victim was killed not far from me, some psycho is walking around and I feel like I'm going crazier than I already am." Ichigo paused. Then he looked at Renji. "And you guys look like you've been avoiding me too." The red-headed detective looked uncomfortable.

"Ichigo, you know you've been acting strangely sometimes the past few weeks?" Renji asked. He seemed to be asking it warily, as if expecting Ichigo to snap.

"Yeah, I've heard," Ichigo sniffed. "I… don't really remember how strange I was though. Can you fill me in?" Renji looked at him weirdly.

"You really don't remember?" Ichigo shook his head. Renji gave a disbelieving look. "I don't know what Urahara-san said to you but after the meeting back then you were weird. Always taking off on your own and coming back late. Rukia was worried so she approached you after work. Everyone left the office already but you were still there. Rukia wanted to see how you were doing but…" Renji's pause made Ichigo frown.

"What did I do?" He asked. He almost didn't want to hear it. Renji still had the look of disbelief on him, like Ichigo was supposed to know.

"You slammed her to the wall and choked her. I heard the noise so I went to check, and you were there… and she…" Renji began to fidget. "You had this crazed look, and your eyes were different. They were actually gold, like some wild animal. I had to tackle you before you actually stopped. You… you really don't remember?" Renji asked again. His look became accusing but at the same time Ichigo could see he was trying to understand what was going on with him.

"No… Oh god, Rukia…" Ichigo buried his face in his hands. "No wonder you guys look scared… I'm sorry."

"Tell that to Rukia," Renji said, frowning and not meeting his eye. "After you went off, I wanted to run after you but she said no. She told me that you weren't yourself and it wasn't your fault." Renji stopped again, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. Ichigo wondered whether Rukia knew what was going on with him. "Look, Ichigo, we're your friends, not just your colleagues. We want to understand you and help you out when you're feeling under the weather."

Ichigo smiled at him. "Thanks, but I can't really tell you right now."

"Is it serious?"

"Might be."

"Does Urahara-san know about it? Is that why he keeps talking to you in private?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Okay…"

They fell into an awkward silence. Ichigo was debating with himself on whether to tell Renji about his encounter last night. He trusted him, but sometimes the man was prone to slip his tongue. He wondered if he should tell Rukia instead; he needed to see her to apologize to her.

"I'll get dressed, I'm going back to the office," he told Renji.

"You can rest if you want to. Urahara-san just wants to know whether you're okay."

"Showing myself would be polite," Ichigo said. Renji left it at that and waited for him. Ichigo began to take off his tee as he went back to his room but stopped when he heard Renji make a startled sound. His shirt was halfway up his body. "What?"

"Your back…"  _Shit_ , Ichigo thought. He'd totally forgotten about the branding. He quickly set his shirt back down. It was too late, Renji had already seen it. "Jesus, Ichigo, did the guy you were fighting with do that too?" Ichigo blinked at him.

"I… I don't remember," Ichigo said. His face must have been blank, because Renji seemed to believe him.

"You sure? Because I think you might have fought the Rokuban," Renji said grimly though he looked like he was having a hard time believing himself either.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's the number 6, Ichigo. It looks exactly like the one he carved on the victims."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Are you sure you want to do this, Kurosaki-san?" Urahara asked. He looked disappointed, not really at Ichigo but it seemed more like he was disappointed in himself, like he had failed something. Probably he thought he'd failed Ichigo, resulting in the young man to ask for a withdrawal from the team.

"Yes… I don't think I should be continuing in this team. I might… do more damage than helping," Ichigo said. Urahara looked at him with a sad smile. He understood what he meant; the man knew.

"If you think that's best for you then I'll start with the paperwork. Return to your previous position or a transfer to an entirely new one?" Urahara said.

"I don't know. I might want a leave for the moment," Ichigo told him truthfully. The captain looked surprised and worried.

"I haven't been watching you for a while because of work, did something happen? Well, asides from the bar fight you allegedly had."

"No nothing really," Ichigo lied. "But you know what I did to Rukia, right? I'm sure Renji must have reported it to you."

"Ah, about that…"

"I didn't even know I was doing it," Ichigo said quickly, his voice rising in a slight panic. "What if it escalates, what if I actually  _kill_ someone? Especially someone close? I'm withdrawing, Urahara-san, I'd rather continue by myself." His mentor looked at him with sad eyes.

"I know you're still going to do your own investigation and I will leave you to it, but I implore you, Ichigo, don't do anything reckless. I don't want your father to come chasing after me if anything happened to you," Urahara said. "At the most, I want you to report whatever you find to me, but do not act without reporting. I will suspend you if I see you do anything of the sort." Ichigo gave him a small smile and nodded. "Will you promise to at least keep seeing Aizen for your sessions?"

"Do you really trust him?" Ichigo asked.

"He is supposedly one of the best in his profession."

"Okay then," Ichigo replied, a little quieter. Urahara sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked exhausted. His stubble had grown, and Ichigo wondered if his trouble had anything to do with the man's current lethargy. Urahara could be paternal if he wanted to. It was just that he was a bit young, but he was caring anyway. He was mostly like a close uncle, or a godfather to Ichigo; a substitute for his absent father who was working in another country. He didn't talk much about his father since everybody already knew about him.

Kurosaki Isshin was a great detective, and Ichigo had been following after his footsteps. Ichigo admired him greatly, and though his father was silly and goofy at home, Ichigo had seen him at work, and had quite idolized the man. But right now, after going through so many years of work, Ichigo wondered how his father could actually cope with all this.

Maybe because he wasn't crazy like him.

"Well I have one thing that might be important," Ichigo said. Urahara waited for him to continue. "A name: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

"A name? Where did that come from?"

"I've heard it here and there," Ichigo said, avoiding Urahara's eye. "I don't know how to spell it though."

"Alright, I'll try to look the name up. But since you're no longer in the team I'm afraid I'd have to act first before I tell you, do you understand Kurosaki-san?" Ichigo relaxed at the use of his surname. He never felt comfortable with Urahara calling him by his first name. It felt too personal, especially since the man could read him so easily. He wanted a little distance.

"Yeah, I understand." Ichigo left his office after that.

He was on his way to the exit when he bumped into Rukia. She looked surprised. "Ichigo, where are you going?"

"I'm taking some time off."

"Are you sick?"

"You should know, Rukia," Ichigo bowed his head. Rukia stiffened when she realized what he meant.

"I know you weren't aware of yourself at that time, Ichigo…" he heard her say. "I admit I was scared but… Renji told you didn't he? He was scared too, but he's trying to understand. A bit skeptical, but that's how all guys are at first." Ichigo looked at her and smiled.

"I'm really sorry, Rukia."

"Idiot, I said I'm fine. Especially since you seem to be okay now," Rukia said but looked at him again and took it back. "Well not physically. You do look like you got your butt served on a platter."

"Sort of I guess," Ichigo muttered with a scowl.

"Renji told me you got into a fight at some bar. I find it unbelievable that our Kurosaki Ichigo actually went drinking," Rukia teased. Ichigo shrugged with a smirk this time. "But Renji looked kinda disturbed, and I know he's hiding something. You know anything about that? Does it involve you in the first place?" The petite woman began to eye him suspiciously.

"No, I don't," Ichigo said. He knew Renji would tell on him sooner or later but right now Ichigo would rather have someone shoot his mouth off than open up himself. Rukia held his gaze, reading him as she always had been able to. Thankfully for Ichigo, she changed the subject.

"Are you going to the doctor now?"

"Yeah, I really need some time by myself."

"Alright then, I'll see you Ichigo. Please take care of yourself."

"You too Rukia."

Ichigo finally got out of the precinct. He sighed, feeling drained already. He saw Yumichika and Ikkaku coming his way. They looked at him, but continued walking. Without thinking, Ichigo called to Ikkaku.

"What is it?" Yumichika asked in the other man's stead. Ikkaku just observed Ichigo quietly.

"I'm sorry for causing any trouble in the team. And I'm sorry I acted so strangely that I may have roused your suspicions. I… I'd like us to get along again, even if we may not see eye to eye," Ichigo said. Yumichika regarded him for a moment before he turned to Ikkaku.

The bald man said, "You're leaving the team?"

"What? I didn't say that…"

"We can tell, Ichigo. Even though we admit, we've been pretty much acting like dicks towards you, we still know you personally as a friend even if we're not as close as Kuchiki or Abarai," Ikkaku replied him.

"What we're trying to say is we accept your apology," Yumichika sighed. "And we're sorry too, I suppose." Ichigo gave a weak smile. He nodded to them and bowed slightly, thanking them for their understanding.

As he walked away he wondered what made him go out of his way to patch things up. He thought he wanted distance. Did he do it because he had to do it? To appear like he was a socially able person who would look normal by having friends than enemies or being by himself? Or maybe he did mean it? He kept thinking about it until he reached Aizen's office, where the receptionist greeted him cheerfully.

Ichigo asked whether the psychiatrist was available.

"Aizen-san is with another patient right now…" she looked at her computer screen, probably the psychiatrist's schedule. "But he won't be free until late evening. Should I call you or ask him to call you instead so that you can decide on an appointment?"

"No, it's okay I'll-"

The door to Aizen's office opened. A green-haired woman walked out. She was beautiful but had a rather haughty look on her face. When she looked at Ichigo though, her face softened into a lovely gentle smile. Ichigo watched her admiringly as she walked to the elevator.

"Neliel," Aizen called from the door to his office. The woman turned to the door. "Don't forget our next appointment." She smiled gently, almost sadly, and nodded. She got into the elevator and the door s slid closed. Ichigo wondered what kind of problem for such a beautiful woman to see a psychiatrist for.

"Kurosaki-kun, what can I do for you? You look horrible." Aizen had averted his attention to him.

"Just a petty fight… I'm out of the homicide team, but Urahara-san wants me to continue the sessions," Ichigo told him.

"Oh?" he looked questioningly at Ichigo's for the mention of him being out of the team. "Well I have other patients to see for today. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow in the afternoon."

"Alright," Ichigo said. He started towards the elevator as well.

"Kurosaki-kun? I hope you wouldn't take any reckless actions," Aizen said. Ichigo frowned at him, but nodded anyways and stepped into the lift when it arrived.

As the elevator doors slid close, Ichigo wondered what the hell the man was talking about.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo continued his own investigation. He had gone to the doctor for his wounds, which much to Ichigo's surprise had started healing pretty fast. But then again, it had always been that way since he was young. The doctor said the scar would be there permanently, to Ichigo's disappointment, though the funny thing was, he didn't feel too badly about it. All the doctor could do was clean him up and helped him with his bruises. The doctor was also quite intrigued by his lack of feeling pain, but Ichigo said he has been like that all his life.

The doctor gave him a medical certificate that gave him reason to take time off, and Aizen wrote a letter for him as well that would let him get a longer leave, saying that he was just suffering from major stress. A laughable excuse, but it worked, so Ichigo didn't think twice about it. He stayed at home for the past few days, sleeping, cleaning up the house and trying different possible spellings of the name the Sexta had given him. In Katakana, it was pretty easy, but they would still need the Romanized spelling of his name, and that was the most difficult. Ichigo was just most frustrated with the last name, and in the end he took a time out and made himself some coffee.

The orange haired detective had decided to stay at home for the moment, not wanting to look at the world. He wasn't traumatized from the fight with the Sexta, just that there wasn't much of a reason for him to go out. Most of the time he went out to work and eat, and return home to wash up and sleep. He didn't have much of a social life. The most socializing he had done was going drinking with his colleagues after they graduated from the academy, and that visit he'd gone to Halibel's bar recently. Now that he had time off from work, Ichigo had just realized how empty his life was.

He looked at his personal work desk at the balcony. By his computer were picture frames of his family; his father, his late mother, and his two younger sisters. He smiled at them. Truthfully he missed them terribly. His father had taken his sisters with him because he could take care of them better there, while Ichigo had his own career here.

He continued to look at his work space. The walls that surrounded the desktop however, were covered with paper; newspaper articles, photocopied paper reports, work files, schedule reminders and even photographs of the murders. Now more papers had been pasted over them, and they were mostly related to the Sexta serial murder case.

It took one good look at his desk for Ichigo to realize his whole life revolved around his work. He had nothing interesting in his life. He didn't have a hobby; nothing excited him.

 _Only that man did_ , it said, sniggering at him quietly. Ichigo ignored it.

Returning his attention the wall, he noticed a small section in the corner of the walls was focused mainly on serial murders around the world. Whenever one was reported in the news, Ichigo had subconsciously cut it out and pasted it there. In the first place, was he even the one who cut it out? Or was it  _him?_

Having had enough of thinking from staying at home with nothing to do, Ichigo got up and left the house. He could occupy himself with the sounds and sights outside so that he would think too much. But what can he do or where can he go asides from trying to keep himself from thinking too deeply?  _Work_ , that's all he could do. His desk was evidence of it. And work he would.

Taking the public transport and walking a few minutes through a dim lit street, Ichigo reached the door of his destination; another bar he had staked out at previously.

It was a quieter and less crowded bar than Halibel's. It had a cozy, comfortable feeling to it, almost too comfortable to the point that the atmosphere was almost sleepy. It didn't come across to Ichigo as a place where the Sexta would visit very often. Suddenly thinking of the man had Ichigo's pulse quicken slightly, but Ichigo didn't care whether he'd run into the Sexta again. If he did, he'd probably kill the man himself. Or arrest him. That was best.

'Don't get yourself into trouble, Ichigo,' he reminded himself.

Putting his thoughts aside, he made his way to the counter where a pale-greened haired girl was bugging the bored looking man behind it. Ichigo would rather not think about worst case scenarios.

The man looked up and saw Ichigo and stood slightly straighter. "Detective," the man said. When Ichigo questioned him before, he had given his name as Starrk, and the girl that was continuously disturbing him was his daughter Lilynette. Like Halibel, the man could easily tell who he was. Ichigo gave a slight smile in greeting. "I thought I've answered all your questions?"

"Sorry, I just have a couple more," Ichigo said. The man nodded and gestured for him to continue. His daughter had finally kept quiet and just stared at him. Apparently she wanted to listen in as well. "Last time you said you don't remember anyone with blue hair or blue eyes that particularly stood out. What about this name: Grimmjow?"

"Hm, no, sorry," Starrk replied. It was a fast answer, but Ichigo could see the man wasn't lying to him. He continued, this time taking a shot at the companion the Sexta had previously.

"What about this large guy… dark skinned, red hair but half of it is shaved off? Got a deep voice, and looks kinda intimidating."

"Half-shaved red hair?" the man pondered on, but his daughter cut in.

"I've seen him. Mean looking guy with stupid red-colored hairstyle right?" the girl – Lilynette – said. She grinned smugly. "He sometimes comes in with this other mean looking guy, but he's smaller and shorter than him."

"Yeah, that's him," Ichigo said, smiling in return and crossing his fingers for luck.

"Oh, him," Starrk said. "Seen him more than that other guy though. Talked to him a couple of times."

"So what did you guys talk about?"

Starrk sighed and took a moment to think again. "Nothing much, just asked him how was work, though I never really asked him what his job was. Just a bit of chit chat because Lilynette is always bugging me for me to really talk to other people."

"That's because you'd sleep on the job if I don't!" Lilynette retorted defensively.

"Yeah, that," Starrk shrugged. "He isn't a bad guy though. He just looks mean, usually they all are."

"What about that other guy?"

"He's kinda scary," Lilynette replied instead. "He doesn't talk as much, but he always listens like he always knows, and when he looks at me it's like… I don't know."

"Go on," Ichigo said gently; the girl reminded him of his younger sisters.

"You know when a cat stares at you in the eye? It's kinda creepy like that," the green haired girl said. She shuddered slightly at her own imagination and Ichigo caught her father smirking.

"But you don't remember the color of his eyes…?"

"Kinda too scared to really look at him," Lilynette said, embarrassed. Ichigo accepted the answer. After all, who wouldn't be scared to look at death in the eye?

"The other guy just keeps to himself. Only Edrad talks," Starrk told him.

"Edrad? That's the big guy's name? Do you know how to spell it?" Ichigo passed the bartender his pen and notepad and the man jotted it down. "E-d-r-a-d. Edrad. Thank you very much, sir, you've helped a lot." Ichigo patted Starrk's shoulder in thanks, feeling excited and grinned at Lilynette who did the same in return.

"Good luck Detective, hope you catch that crazy killer guy," Ichigo heard the man say as he left, still in that bored voice.

He headed back as fast as he could. If he was lucky, he might still be able to use the computer in the office; he'd finally got a name that he can run through the database. It wasn't the Sexta's name, but it was as close as Ichigo could get at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

Ichigo rushed towards the Police Precinct despite the time. With the name written in his notepad, he ran up the steps of the entrance, and bumped hard into a small woman. They both fell to the floor, scattering their things. The woman was cussing under her breath.

"Ow, shit!" Ichigo cried. "Shit, sorry, I didn't-"

"Ichigo? What're you doing here so late?" Ichigo blinked as he stood up when he realized it was Rukia.

"Rukia? Oh, I…"

"First thing's first," Rukia interrupted him and smacked him upside the head.

"What the hell, you midget?" Ichigo rubbed his sore spot and glared at the woman angrily.

"Don't 'what the hell' me, I should be asking you that!" Rukia yelled at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were withdrawing from the team! You could at least have the courtesy to tell me that when you left to see the doctor, you idiot!" She looked genuinely hurt and Ichigo immediately felt guilty.

"Rukia, I'm sorry..."

"Hush! I want to know what you're doing now since you're supposedly on leave anyway," Rukia demanded. She huffed and put her hands on her hips in akimbo.

"I..." Ichigo looked at her in the eyes. He trusted her. "I got a name of someone who might know the Sexta." Rukia blinked at him for a moment, looking lost.

"Wait, restart. What? How are you so sure whoever this is really knows the correct Sexta?"

"I saw him with the Sexta," Ichigo said simply.

"Ichigo, are you-"

"I know the guy is the Sexta, Rukia. The blue-haired guy I'm talking about. I saw him, I know it's him. And now I have the name of the guy who looks like he knows the Sexta on a personal level," Ichigo continued.

"Slow down, Ichigo, how do you know he's really the Sexta? Did you see him kill someone?"

"You know when you have this great gut feeling, and you know you're right? It's that right now. The guy knows I know, and he's been fucking with me, stalking me, he called me and-"

"Ichigo!" Rukia exclaimed, making Ichigo stop talking. She pulled him to a corner where people wouldn't see them. "You said the Sexta is stalking you? He  _called_  you?" Ichigo kept his lips shut, scolding himself internally for blurting it out. Rukia kept her eyes locked with Ichigo's and finally Ichigo spoke.

"The tip-off for the last victim was from me. I got the call from the Sexta himself, not Urahara." He then spilled out everything, from what he saw at the organ dump site, to his fight with the Sexta himself. He trusted Rukia that much, but was also scared that the woman wouldn't believe him and might report him to her captain instead. Rukia stared at him, not uttering a word as he spoke. Her eyes never left his, and they seemed to stay like that for what seemed like a long time.

Eventually, she said, "I believe you Ichigo."

He felt like he could breathe again. 'Bless this woman,' Ichigo thought. 'Bless me, for having such a great friend like her.' "Thank you, Rukia." She smiled at him.

"Now fill me in on what you were blabbering about. And though I would love to tell Urahara about this, I think we can do this bit on our own," Rukia said with a grin. "After all, they still don't buy the blue-haired guy theory so we can show them what we have when it's solid."

"'Our'? 'We'?" Ichigo repeated. The small woman huffed at him.

"Of course 'we', 'our' and 'us'. I'm doing this with you," Rukia told him. "And I don't care what you're going to say, I won't change my mind. But I  _will_ tell Urahara if you don't let me in on this." Ichigo just gaped at her, a loss at what to say before he relaxed and laughed.

"Fine, thanks, Rukia. You're great," Ichigo said. "Is the office still open?"

"Yeah. Urahara still lets us use the place overnight. I'm the last one to leave so I have the key for our sect," Rukia grinned as she jangled the key at Ichigo.

They got back and used Rukia's computer to go through the database of previously convicted persons. Typing in the name in Romanized alphabets, they got a short list of people, with the one Ichigo recognized immediately on the top of the list. In the mug shot the man looked the same as he was at the moment; only his unshaved hair was shorter then. His full name was Edrad Liones. He was charged for being a public nuisance and physical assault at some bar. Probably a fight. That was three years ago.

Ichigo took down his address and phone number. It was too late to call now, so he'd call the man tomorrow.

"I'll call him tomorrow," Ichigo said. Rukia looked at him expectantly. "And I'll tell you about it, don't worry."

"You better make sure I'm with you when you meet him!"

"Yes, yes, you noisy midget. For now we can go back. Thanks for helping me out."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo had called the man, Edrad Liones first thing in the morning. The man didn't answer, and so Ichigo had left his request of wanting to meet for simple questions on his voicemail. He hoped the man would get back to him soon. Fortunately he had something to do, though he didn't really enjoy it. But at least he had something to occupy him while waiting, instead of sitting by the phone waiting for a call that might not come. He hated waiting. Time had always made him feel troubled for some reason.

He walked briskly into the building that housed Aizen Sousuke's psychiatric office. He greeted Hinamori, the receptionist with a nod as usual and approached her; he had become a regular there. She said, "You're early Kurosaki-san. Aizen-san is still having his session with another patient."

"Nah it's okay," Ichigo said. "What about that green-haired woman last time?"

"Green hair? Oh, Nel-san!" Hinamori smiled at the thought of the woman. "She's a long time patient of Aizen-san, she knows him and seen him longer than I've worked for him. She's a wonderful person, beautiful, kind and adorable sometimes too!"

"She sounds perfect..." Ichigo replied thoughtfully. "What problem does she have then?"

"Ah, sorry, Kurosaki-san, that's confidential," the receptionist reminded him kindly.

"Oh, right, sorry," Ichigo said. He went to sit at the couches in the waiting area. He glanced at his watch and felt nervous.

After what seemed like fifteen minutes, the door to Aizen's room opened and the same woman Ichigo had mentioned walked out. She saw Ichigo and gave a smile before she disappeared into the elevator. Ichigo stared at the closed elevator doors for a moment and then went into the psychiatrist's room.

"Hello Kurosaki-kun, how have you been?" Kurosaki shrugged in response as he sat down on the seat across Aizen. "So, anything new now? Any trouble? Because I'd like to go further than we have been."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like to start from the beginning of your life. Your childhood."

Ichigo stared at him, looking quite pale. "Um, isn't it rather early...?"

"It's been more than two months since we started, Kurosaki-kun, and you've been saying you wanted to get more results, but for that we'd have to go to the root of the problem, wouldn't we?" Aizen told him. Ichigo didn't answer. His eyes avoided the psychiatrist's and instead look elsewhere, anywhere. "If not, well, I can't force you. We'll try to do something about your distress."

"I guess we can... talk about it," Ichigo said instead. Aizen paused and observed him for a while. The detective just sat still.

"In a previous session," the psychiatrist began. "You seem to be familiar with losing consciousness or acting differently even when you didn't know it."

"Did I?" Ichigo asked.

"Yes, you did," Aizen smiled. "We were talking about your condition. You appeared as if you've gone through it."

"Really," Ichigo repeated. He was evading the subject like he knew about it but not wanting to talk about it. He also seemed to have withdrawn within himself, almost scared.

"Yes, Kurosaki-skun. Would you like to tell me more about it?"

The detective shifted in his seat. "I don't know about it. People just tell me and I believe them, because half the time I didn't know what I was doing. They said I did this or that, but I don't remember it."

"When did you start hearing the voices?"

"A long time ago, I can't remember," Ichigo said. He was frowning slightly, looking like he was being provoked.

"In the first session you said it was after your mother died."

"If you knew, then don't fucking ask," Ichigo snapped. Aizen kept up his smile.

"So have you been hearing from the 'bad' one?"

"Sometimes, when he just wants to provoke me."

"How about the other one?"

"Zangetsu doesn't talk. He listens and watches." Both of them didn't talk; Aizen was scribbling something on his paper, and Ichigo was thinking over it. "Why are we talking about them? They're not real. They're just dreams, nightmares. The voices are only in my head. I'm just crazy."

"Are they real to you?"

"I... don't know. Sometimes they are, but most of the time, I think they can't be. People don't see them like I do."

"Because they're in your head."

"Yeah, so I thought, maybe it's just really me, but I just forgot about it? Vivid imagination? Maybe I fell and hit my head when I was a kid, so I have bad memory or something, I don't know," Ichigo spoke quickly. "Even when I feel that urge, it's not because of that annoying asshole in my head who's trying to come out and kill, it's just me, I know it is."

"How would you know that? Do you share the same feeling as well?"

"...Sometimes..."

"Have you ever hurt anyone? Destroy anything? Yourself, perhaps?"

"I'm not like those suicide wanna-bes if that's what you're saying," Ichigo replied crossly. "But no, I haven't... Or at least I don't think I have."

"Kurosaki-kun, how much of your childhood do you remember?" Aizen asked, steering the subject into a new direction.

Ichigo stopped. Now that he thought about it, there wasn't much he did remember. He tried to answer though. "After my mom died, I took care of my sisters and tried to help my dad out as much as I could. And study."

"That's all?"

Ichigo twiddled his fingers unconsciously as he nodded. "It's just school and study day after day. Nothing much to say about that, right?"

"No relationships, accidents, anything?"

"No, I've always been too busy to bother. I don't remember any accidents. My dad said I had a major one but I've never remembered such a thing, so no, I don't think there's any." How funny, Ichigo thought. He didn't know he had that much of a boring life. Did he? He'd lived for almost twenty five years, but yet when he looked back in his life, there was so many things missing. It was like as if he just skipped through them. He thought he'd gone through so much more. Something more physical. Something more...

 _Do ya really wanna remember, Ichigo?_ The thing interrupted, its distorted voice breaking the silence in his head.  _Trust me, ya won't like what ya see._

"Is something wrong, Kurosaki-kun?" Ichigo's eyes snapped up to Aizen's who was staring at him quietly. "You look quite pale."

"Nothing," he said.

"What about your father and sisters? No fond memories that you would like to share?"

"No," Ichigo said blankly. "Nothing at all."

The session continued, but it was pretty unfruitful, with Ichigo suddenly spacing out and not concentrating. Aizen, noticing that the detective just wasn't with him at the moment, decided to wrap up the session a little earlier. Ichigo didn't say anything about it, and went out the door quietly. The psychiatrist followed him to the elevator.

As Ichigo stepped in, Aizen stopped the door and told Ichigo, "Kurosaki-kun, I think it would be very helpful if you try to recall your childhood on your own, no matter how painful it is. I suggest you ask your captain, your father, or even the media about it."

"The media? Why the hell would they know about it?" Ichigo asked with a frown. Aizen gave a small smile.

"You will know when you go and seek it out, Kurosaki-kun."

The elevator doors slid close, leaving Ichigo puzzled. What did he mean by that?

Childhood... He'd been avoiding that subconsciously. Whenever Aizen tried to ask him about it, he evaded them, and when others ask him about his child life, he'd steer the conversation into another direction. He didn't have much memories of his childhood, yet all he wanted was to not talk about it. What had happened?

Thinking about the way Aizen said it, it almost sounded bad. Well, it should be bad since the media even knew about it. But the other him told him too, that he wouldn't like what he would see if he tried to remember. Ichigo felt a chill run down his spine.

Did he dare to remember?

When he got out of the building, his cell rang, dissipating his troubled thoughts.

"Kurosaki Ichigo speaking."

"Is this is the detective who called? This is Edrad Liones," the person at the other line said. His voice was low and strong and barely had the presence of a foreign accent.

"Yes. Do you mind if I see you for a couple of questions?"

"What is it about?"

"The Rokuban."

"Excuse me?" his voice was filled with disbelief.

"The Rokuban killer whom we're trying to catch."

"Why would I have anything to do with that psycho?"

'You're his friend, apparently,' Ichigo thought to himself, but answered, "We just heard you're a regular in the bars that the victims used to hang out at. You might know something."

"A lot of people are regulars at the bars."

"We're really trying to get as much as we can. Please help us catch this guy," Ichigo said. The man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Tsk, fine, whatever. I'll meet you, detective."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Rukia seemed to be enjoying her frappe while the both of them waited for Edrad Liones to present himself at a small cafe in the centre of town as they had planned. It was evening, when most office hours would have usually ended by then. Ichigo had just about enough time to return home from his appointment to call Rukia and meeting her at the cafe. The man was a few minutes late, and Ichigo was already getting nervous. Rukia had to kick him lightly in the shin and tell him to calm down before Ichigo felt more settled.

"Stop worrying, he's going to come. Well, he should. We have his address anyway," Rukia told him. Ichigo shrugged and continued to wait impatiently. Finally after, fifteen minutes, Ichigo saw the large man walking towards them from a corner. Ichigo finally got a good look of him; he was tall and large, probably 2 metres of muscle covered by work pants and a company work shirt, a square face and his red hair was longer than Ichigo had thought. He definitely looked intimidating, and he didn't look happy to see them.

"Evening, Liones-san," Rukia greeted, trying to break the awkward tension that had already popped up even though the large man had just arrived. He nodded to the female detective and took a seat across them.

"So, what am I here for? I don't think I have anything to do with some crazy fuck who goes around killing people for fun. If I do, I would have known and killed him myself," Edrad said angrily. "Whoever that psycho is, he should be hanged. The things he did to those people are sick."

"I don't think you would, he might be someone you know," Ichigo replied without thinking, and Rukia hit him under the table with her elbow.

"Am I a suspect now?" Edrad said, his voice rising just a little. "The bar fight a couple of years back was just a drunken brawl, if you're picking me out for my past record."

"He means that one of the people in the bars could have been the Rokuban, and you might know him, probably talked to him," Rukia quickly said when the large man narrowed his eyes at Ichigo's accusatory tone. "Do you remember anyone who could have been the Rokuban? Anyone suspicious?"

"No," Edrad said. "And I don't really talk to anyone in the bars. I either stick to myself, talk to the bartenders or to the people I go to the bars with."

"Who do you usually go with then?" Ichigo asked. He was getting impatient.  _What is his name?_

"Work colleagues," Edrad simply said.

"Would you mind giving some names?" Rukia tried. Edrad's frown deepened; he clearly did not like police, and he did not want to tell them his friends' names.

"I'm sorry, I'd rather not," Edrad said bluntly.

"Alright then," Rukia replied, looking deflated. They couldn't force it out of him. She looked at Ichigo, her eyes asking,  _What now?_

"Do you know anyone named Grimmjow then?" Ichigo asked. If the man wasn't going to give a name, he would. Even if he said no, they can always tell whether he was lying by his reactions.

"Grim...jaw?" the man repeated. Ichigo studied him carefully. The man looked puzzled by the name. "No, I don't."

"Never mind, thank you for your time. Sorry we caused any inconvenience," Rukia said as they began to move.

"One more thing, may we know what is your job right now?" Ichigo asked one last time.

"I'm just a deliveryman," Edrad replied shortly.

"Okay, thank you." The man grunted in reply and turned away.

As he walked off, Ichigo asked Rukia, "So, what do you think? Was he lying about not knowing the name?"

"The puzzled look was genuine in my opinion."

"That's what I thought too," Ichigo sighed. "But I swear, it's the same guy talking to the Sexta." He continued watching the man, his eyes fixed on the words emblazoned on the back of the work shirt: Tessai's Delivery Services.

"We should check out that delivery service," Rukia said when she noticed him looking.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Grimmjow picked at his food as Edrad passed the money to the young waitress who eyed Grimmjow with a smile before leaving. Eating at a diner was one of the things the two colleagues did after work. Grimmjow had nothing else to do after work, other than his usual 'activities', and went along with it. Edrad wanted to talk to him again, and here he was, trying to be a good friend like how everyone else was supposed to be, and hear him out. The larger man finally turned his attention to him

" _Some police questioned me just now. Some short woman and orange-haired guy_ ," Edrad said in Spanish as he began to eat.

" _What about?_ " Grimmjow asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mention of the detective, but did not make any big reactions. Had the detective finally began to home in on him? He sure took his time.

" _About_   _that crazy killer guy who's been punching a hole through people. They called me up just because I visit 'em bars regularly. But I don't go there that often_ ," Edrad wondered to himself out loud in between chewing. " _It's not as if I have anything to do with a sick guy like him_."

'But you do, because you're talking to him right now, _'_ Grimmjow answered his colleague in his head with a smirk. " _They must be out of places to look. What'd they ask ya?"_

" _Useless things like whether I've seen anyone suspicious or anything_ ," Edrad said. " _But they asked me who I go to bars with, and that almost makes me feel like a suspect._ " Edrad looked annoyed by the thought and continued eating almost angrily.

" _So ya told 'em about me?_ " Grimmjow asked as he sliced his piece of steak slowly.

" _No, 'course not,_ " Edrad told him. " _You'd know nothing anyway. They'd just waste your time. They did ask whether I know this guy named... Grim-jaw or something. Weird name, but it does sound like your last name though._ "

" _Grim-jaw?_ " Grimmjow repeated and mocked a thoughtful expression. " _Yeah, sounds similar._ " He continued eating, internally pleased that even though he had learned that the detective had withdrawn from the team – or at least had gotten himself a leave from work – after their first direct meeting, Kurosaki was still going after him.

" _So, Nikolai, what about this new woman you've been toying with? You've always been a player,_ " Edrad said, now in a new subject. Grimmjow frowned slightly at the name; he had insisted that they not use names when talking. " _Sorry, slip of tongue._ "

Grimmjow let it slide and a grin replaced the frown, " _I have a feeling this one's special. Maybe you'll meet her one day,_ "

" _Really? Well that's something new. Never even seen you with any woman longer than a night, and now a special girl? I'd definitely like to meet her,_ " Edrad joked with a hearty laugh. Grimmjow smiled as he sliced his steak into smaller pieces, and Edrad made a sound of disapproval. " _What?_ "

" _Sorry, still not used to your taste,_ " Edrad responded apologetically as he stared at Grimmjow's plate. It was quite bloody. " _Never met anyone who likes to eat meat that rare._ "

" _Well, now you have_ ," Grimmjow merely said with a smug smirk.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hello, detectives!" the large burly man named Tessai greeted enthusiastically with a bow. Even though he was the head of the company, the man acted more like a top service worker. His rectangular glasses glistened while his bushy moustache wiggled with every word he spoke, and his strange fashion sense of a tight t-shirt and pants with an apron over despite his tall, muscled body made him a rather comical sight. The company office was small and humble though and it looked out of place among all the tall grey buildings located nearer to the edges of town; it was the size of a decent shop, just a storey high and built in a traditional Japanese manner. It even had those banners and looked more like a provisions store.

"Thanks for letting us come here to answer our questions," Rukia said, smiling.

"No, I'm glad to be of help. Especially if it's about the Rokuban. These are dark times, indeed," the man said. "And you must be Detective Kurosaki Ichigo! Captain Urahara often spoke to me about you."

"You know him?"

"We were childhood friends," Tessai said, his glasses gleaming. "Now, what are the questions?"

"Oh, right," Rukia took out her notepad. "Firstly, what kinds of deliveries do you do?"

"All sorts! Actually, my company isn't a real one. We're not exactly registered," Tessai admitted with a low whisper. "Especially since the deliveries are more catered to the darker part of town." It was true, they couldn't find any company under the name registered in the database, but they existed by word-of-mouth and unregistered print. Getting their number and location was easy enough.

"So you have connections with the black market?" Ichigo asked, glancing at the small office. There didn't seem to be anyone, other than two young children inside.

"No, no, how ridiculous! I just provide my services to anyone who needs it," Tessai said, the hairs of his thick moustache bristling. "Whatever you need to deliver, from letters, small packages, even pets, we'd do it for you."

'Sounds fishy,' Ichigo thought to himself. "When did you start this business?"

"Hm, it's been a while… Probably ten years?"

"Do you deliver them yourself?"

"I hire workers. They're the ones that make my company strong. They know the whole Karakura like the back of their hand," Tessai replied proudly.

"How many of them?" Rukia asked.

"Right now, I only have less than twenty. I keep the deliveries limited. Sending out too many isn't good sometimes, and it's not as if I look like I can pay that many workers."

"So do you have a worker named Edrad?"

"Yes, I believe I do. The big one with the half-shaved head? He's not in trouble is he?"

"No, we were just wondering. What about a 'Grimmjow'?"Ichigo asked.

"Hm, I'm afraid no…" Ichigo frowned. This can't be. He told Ichigo that was his name, so why was it that no one recognized it?

"Any of your workers with blue hair or blue eyes?" Ichigo tried.

Tessai's moustache wiggled as he rubbed his chin and pursed his lips. "Frankly I don't really see my workers often. They're given their tasks, come here to collect the item and off they go for delivery."

"Do you have records of the deliveries? And the names of the workers?"Rukia asked instead.

"Yes of course. I've prepared them already, in case you needed them," Tessai seemed to smile though his moustache hid it well. The both of them followed the large man into the office, where all they could see was a couple of computers, desks, chairs a small kitchen at the back, and lots of file drawers. The two children – a girl with two ponytails and dreamy expression and a loud rowdy boy with red hair – stared at them from one of the desks. Tessai went to one of the drawers and browsed through seemingly hundreds of files before he took two folders out.

"Here it is," Tessai passed the folders to them. "I hope they will help." The two thanked the man before they began to flip through the papers. Rukia looked through the delivery records while Ichigo went through the list of workers. His eyes searched for a 'Grimmjow', but came up with nothing. He looked through it over and over again, but still did not find any that resembled the sound of the name. Perhaps the Sexta didn't work the same job as Edrad? But the man did say he only went to bars with colleagues…

"There's no 'Grimmjow',' Rukia said when she peered over to his side. "But I see a 'Grimshaw'. You sure you heard him right?"

"Where?" Rukia pointed to the name 'Nikolai Grimshaw' with the Grimshaw as the surname. "But I'm positive he said Grimmjow with a 'j'. He said it right by my ear, I can remember it clearly." Despite the difference, Ichigo still looked through his information. There was no picture with it.

"Tessai-san? How do you hire your workers?"

"As I said, this isn't an official company. I hire them if I think they're competent enough. They just fill in their particulars and they start work when I see that they are serious about it."

Ichigo turned back to the information paper. "Can you write this down, Rukia? We can just give it a shot, go look through the database."Rukia nodded and scribbled it down. Ichigo took the other folder from her lap and looked through the deliveries under the same guy's name.

It looked like that particular worker had been working for a long while in the company, a couple of years after the company just started. "This Grimshaw's been working a long while in your company."

"Grimshaw-san? Ah, I can't say... I don't really see him. I know he's there, but he goes off too quick. He does a lot of deliveries and does them well, but he escapes my eye so often I've forgotten how he looks."

"And you're okay with that? How do you keep in contact with him then?" Rukia looked at him disbelievingly.

"By phone. I believe as long as he's doing his job right, I have no reason to pursue or bother him. He does his job well, I've got people complimenting him," the large man said. The both of them looked back at the records.

"Looks like he does deliveries mainly to certain parts… And repeatedly too," Ichigo said, glancing at Tessai expectantly.

"Those are the regulars. Some of my customers prefer to have a certain deliveryman do the deliveries for them, so they can request. For him, they say he's quick and easy on the eyes."

"Sounds like a host club," Rukia said with a smirk.

"If only, Detective," Tessai sighed dreamily in a strange, creepy way. Wasn't surprising that this guy was Urahara's childhood friend. They were both weird. Ichigo tried to ignore him and wrote down some of the customers' names and particulars.

"Thanks, Tessai-san," Ichigo said as he passed the folders back to the burly man. "Can you do us a favour and not tell Urahara-san about this?"

"Oh? I had the notion that he knew."

"Well, not for this one."

"The captain had always spoken fondly of you, Kurosaki-san, so I'm sure he trusts you in whatever you do. And I believe in his judgment, so I shall believe in you as well. I will not speak to him about this," Tessai said with a bow.

"Thank you so much!" Both of them bowed low in gratitude before going off.

"I didn't expect Urahara to have weird friends like that," Rukia mused to Ichigo who shrugged in reply.

"Me neither, but Urahara-san's a pretty weird guy himself." Rukia smirked at his reply.

"So what now?" Ichigo looked at the address they had taken down.

"I don't know," Ichigo said. "But the clients of this guy live pretty close. We can try asking and see whether this Grimshaw is the same Grimmjow." Rukia agreed, and the both of them left hurriedly, already on their way to one of the clients' address. A little bit of following the invisible trail and they were slowly making progress, or Ichigo hoped they were. Ichigo couldn't help but feel excited, and nervous at the same time. He felt like he was slowly getting closer to the Sexta.

They arrived at a shabby apartment building, went up the stairs and ended up in front of a door with the name "Shiba" scrawled messily on a wall with some blunt object. Ichigo knocked on the door and waited for an answer, but got loud noises instead.

"Who's that?" a female voice asked harshly from the other side of the door.

"Um, Shiba-san? We're with the police," Rukia said rather meekly. They waited for a minute while more noises could be heard.

The door swung open. A one-armed woman with a nasty frown greeted them. She appeared to be older than them, but no older than mid thirties. Her long, shaggy black hair was covered in a bandana but she wore a v-neck sleeveless top, revealing a plump chest and rather defined muscles on her arm. Her revealing of her stump showed that she had confidence. "Identification, please." Both of them showed it to her. She seemed appeased by it. "Well, what do ya want?"

"We'd just like to ask some questions about a deliveryman from Tessai's Delivery Services," Rukia started. "We believe you requested a certain man to do your deliveries?"

"What, Grimshaw? What about him? He dead or something?" The woman asked, looking mildly concerned.

"Uh, no, we just wanted to ask questions about him," Ichigo replied. "Shiba-san-"

"-Just call me Kuukaku-"

"- Kuukaku-san, would you describe him to us?"

"Tall, fine-looking, nasty scowl every time. Does deliveries fast and quiet. Nothing else needed for a deliveryman. I just request him out of the others because he's fast," the woman said, leaning against the door.

"What about his hair color, his eyes?"

"I don't really look at them, and he wears a cap or a hoodie most of the time so I don't know."

"What about his actions? Does he act strangely…?"

"Nope, just a normal guy. He gives off a strange vibe though."

"In what way?" Rukia asked.

"He's charmin' and attractive and all, but I can tell the boy's hiding something," Kuukaku said thoughtfully. "But everybody does, so it doesn't matter to me. That's all though. Would you mind telling me what this is about?"

"Nothing at all, we're just getting information," Rukia said. Kuukaku shrugged.

"Fine, whatever cop business then."

They thanked her and went on their way. Ichigo and Rukia proceeded to the north of town where another client was. It was also another woman, but she was vivacious and loud in a flirty sort of way, though with her ample bosom, curvy figure and long auburn hair, she didn't need to. She practically jumped Ichigo when she opened the door and saw him, pressing her large breasts against him and cutting his air.

When Ichigo finally managed to peel himself away from her, they asked her the same questions as they did to the client before.

They repeated the same procedure to a few more clients in the area as well, but in the end they got the same answer: Nikolai Grimshaw was a handsome, attractive foreign man who delivers quickly. The strange thing was, nobody actually remembered his hair or eye color. Some said it was because he was wearing a cap while others just didn't pay attention and looked at him as a whole. But still, it was just so strange. Like they were hypnotized or something. Ichigo was getting frustrated.

It was what that second client told him that made Ichigo a little restless. After answering their questions, she had paused and taken a good look at Ichigo.

"Yes?" Ichigo looked back at her with a puzzled look.

"Actually, you remind me of him," the woman who called herself Rangiku had said. "Yes, in fact, you're just like him. Handsome, but always scowling like he's always angry. He doesn't talk much too."

"Oh," Ichigo merely answered. He had felt a strange chill through his body then, but had willed himself not to pay attention to it.

Most of the regular clients who asked for this Grimshaw seemed attracted to him, and some even would do favours for him in return, like giving an extra tip or invite him in for dinner or tea or whatever. It made Ichigo wonder: could serial murderers look so innocent and trustworthy enough for people to actually invite him into their apartment? Don't they know how dangerous it was? Ichigo thought over and then decided, perhaps, that was how he lured his victims away. Though, when he thought of the Sexta's visage, it was anything but innocent. With that crazed grin and piercing cold eyes, Ichigo couldn't imagine how people who be attracted to that.

_How hypocritical, Ichigo._

"Ichigo? I think we can go back and check the database for this guy," Rukia said, snapping her fingers in front of Ichigo to get his attention.

"Huh? Oh, right, okay," Ichigo said. Rukia eyed him with what seemed like concern, but didn't say anything. Ichigo looked at his watch. It was mid afternoon. He had another appointment with Aizen. "Um I gotta go…"

"It's okay, I'll go check. You're still supposed to be on leave anyway," Rukia told him.

"Yeah, thanks. Tell me if you find anything kay?" Ichigo said and they parted ways.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"So, Kurosaki-kun, did you follow my suggestion?" Aizen asked. "About remembering your childhood."

"There's nothing to remember," the detective said stubbornly, though it did not help in hiding the anxiety in his brown eyes. He had shoved the very idea of seeking out memories from his thoughts, yet he didn't know why he was so afraid. He just felt he shouldn't. "All I ever did was study so that I could be like my dad."

"But did you ask yourself why you wanted to be like your father?"

"He's a great detective, he helps to catch the bad guys, he's a hero," Ichigo said, his brows furrowing deeply.

"Is that really all?"

"Yes that is all." Aizen watched him for a bit before nodding. He scribbled whatever it was he always wrote on his clipboard and continued.

"What about your mother? Do you remember her at all?"

"Of course I did," Ichigo snapped. "She was the greatest mom, she supported me, always smiling, always taking care of me, protecting me, even during – " Ichigo stopped.

"Even during what, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Nothing," he mumbled. He actually felt physical pain in his chest when he thought he remembered something crucial. It went away quickly, but Ichigo was sure he could access that memory again. Aizen scribbled something noisily on his paper.

"Let's talk about the voices," Aizen offered. Ichigo tried not to look too relieved.

"The bad one still talking?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"What about the other one?"

"I don't know." Aizen seemed to be hesitating.

"Is it possible if I talk to them?"

"Are you serious?" Ichigo asked incredulously. "They're just  _voices_. My fucked up imagination. They only talk to me to tell me I'm fucking nuts. They don't exist, it's just me."

"But to you, do they exist as another separate being from you?" Ichigo sputtered at the man's question. The psychiatrist had asked him before. He wasn't sure. "The power of the mind is very powerful, Kurosaki-san. No matter how much you deny it, they're there, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but they're just voices…" Ichigo's voice trailed off as he stared down at his hands.

"Was it because you were trying to cope with the loss of your mother that you created these voices, Kurosaki-kun? Was it because your father was always busy working that you created this Zangetsu to act as a father-figure to yourself?"

"I don't know."

"Was it because of your guilt about your mother's murder that you created the 'bad' one?"

"Murder? What the hell are you talking about? My mother died of an accident!"

"An unfortunate accident indeed," Aizen merely said even as Ichigo glared murderously at him. Behind the glare, his mind was hectic. His glare faltered and he sank back to stare at his hands again.

"What… what are you talking about…" Ichigo murmured.

"I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun, but I'm afraid, if we really want results I need to rush this a bit," Aizen told him, but Ichigo was already lost in his thoughts. The image of his mother appeared in his head, but all he could really remember were the good times he spent with her, and the clearest image was of her photo on his desktop at home.

He remembered his distraught father at the funeral. He had looked at Ichigo with such sad eyes mixed with pity. Ichigo remembered feeling like he had done something wrong. He had asked his father what happened to his mother, and Isshin looked shocked. He didn't understand why his father looked that way.

"It was an accident, Ichigo," his father had said. "A drunk driver hit mommy while she was crossing the road."

Ichigo wanted to say something, but his father had pulled away from him. He could hear him sob. Ichigo wanted to say that he was always with his mother, so how come he did not know about it?

And then Ichigo couldn't remember much anymore.

_Ne aibou, I asked you before, do ya really want to know?_

"Kurosaki-kun?" Aizen called. The orange haired detective had gone silent, his face hidden by his orange bangs with his head lowered and still staring at his hands.

_Suit yerself._

Ichigo breathed in and closed his eyes, body still. After a while, he spoke.

"I… remember." Aizen leaned forward, listening intently. "I remembered how my mother died."

Ichigo took another deep breath and recounted out loud, his voice careful and slightly shaky. His tone was monotonous as he tried to keep it emotionless. "My mother didn't die of an accident. It was a… a mugging. There were two men. They…" Ichigo's face contorted into an expression of pain. "They stabbed her. Mom tried to protect me. Even though they saw I was there, they continued. They stabbed her right in the chest. I saw it. The knife going slowly into her. I just stood there… I did nothing."

His knuckles were white, squeezing them so hard they shook in the amount of emotion he was feeling.

"They took her purse, whatever it was they wanted to rob. I didn't care. I just stared at Mom. She was on the floor, her chest red. There was so much blood, and the smell…" Ichigo felt the urge to puke but held it in. "I couldn't look at her face. I didn't know whether she was angry, or sad, I don't know. I… The muggers didn't just take the money. One of them scrammed."

Ichigo paused briefly, then: "The other… he saw me and he gave me this fucked up smile, I can't remember. He… he took my hand and let me hold the knife that stabbed Mom. Then he said… He said…" Ichigo took another deep breath. "He said:  _Look what you did. You killed mommy._ And then he was gone. I just sat beside Mom. She was dead,  _and I killed her_. That's what kept going through my head. I don't know how long I was there. I was just frozen, nothing went through my head. I stared at the knife. There was no noise, nothing. It was dark too, and all I could see was the knife glistening in the moonlight. And Mom was dead."

"And they found you two days later," Aizen added softly. Ichigo just nodded. "You were five then. Do you still feel the guilt?"

"I don't know."

"Was that the point where 'Zangetsu' was created? 'Cutting moon'?"

"I guess." Aizen watched the detective. His head was still down. He couldn't see the young man's expression.

"And the bad one? Was it out of the anger and revenge towards the two who killed your mother?" Ichigp finally looked up, but with a crooked smile. His eyes glowed gold, and Aizen thought twice before speaking again. "Are you angry now?"

"What do you think?" Ichigo's voice was slightly different. Aizen wrote something down but his eyes did not leave the detective before him. Instead, he continued smiling.

"How do you feel after remembering such a thing?"

"Are you seriously asking that question?" Ichigo appeared more relaxed, but the expression of pain had returned and the gold faded into a dull yellow, going close to brown, but not quite. He took a deep breath and stared out the window of the office. "What can I say? I feel like shit."

A moment's silence.

"Well, that's the appointment for the day. How many days of leave do you have left?" Aizen asked.

"Two," Ichigo replied shortly. He stood up. "I can go now, right?"

"Yes, Kurosaki-kun."

"Great," the detective said and left the room before Aizen could even say anything.

Ichigo walked briskly out of the building, feeling strangely furious. Was it the anger that he had been hidden away in his head along with those memories all those years before? If Ichigo had felt urges to kill before, he  _really_  needed to kill someone now. Take a life, just as his mother's had been taken.

He could hear the annoying fucker cackling in the back of his head. He could  _feel_ the fucker pressing against his back, whispering words into his ear.  _No, you don't want to kill for Mom. You just want to kill because you're one sick fuck._ He cackled again but Ichigo couldn't help but agree. All he wanted was to slit someone's throat and cover himself in blood.

That time back then, Ichigo thought he died along with his mother. He did. And then he was reborn, in his mother's blood. Reborn yet broken, damaged, but still very alive.

He walked aimlessly, not knowing what he was doing or where his feet were taking him. He seemed to be walking aimlessly, but eventually, he found himself in front of Starrk's bar.

He needed a drink.

He stepped in without a care, thankful that the sleepy atmosphere of the bar already calming him down. Ichigo let his feet trudge forward, though he wasn't looking at where he was going, until he reached a stool in front of the counter.

"Good to see you again, Kurosaki," someone said, and Ichigo froze. He had expected the bartender's lazy drawl, but instead, it was the familiar growl of a predator that never failed to send shivers down his spine. Ichigo looked up to his right.

There sat the vicious killer that terrorized Karakura, sipping a mug of beer and wearing his trademark grin.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo said, eyes wide.  _Hello there_ , the other one uttered, sounding pleased. Ichigo thought that fate was fucking with him so much at that moment, it wasn't even funny. He tried not to look scared in front of the other, though, he would secretly admit, excitement was there as well.

"Glad to see ya doing fine," the blue-haired man taunted. Ichigo's mind raced with thoughts. The Sexta again, in the flesh. Ichigo had the 'fight or flight' feeling running through him, but the detective gripped the countertop in front of him hard enough for himself to not do the latter. Breathing deep.y, Ichigo did what first ran clearly through his mind.

He sat one seat away from the killer and began to talk.


	10. Chapter 10

"Good to see you're still working on the case," the Sexta said. He took a gulp of his beer and licked his lips while Ichigo watched his every action silently, his brown eyes flickering to the tongue before looking back to his eyes. That tongue was sinful; he'd experienced that before, and the memory of it was enough to make Ichigo's libido rise. He looked to his front and noticed the bartender approaching from his left.

"Hello again," Starrk greeted lazily. Ichigo didn't miss the look of suspicion in the bartender's eyes when they landed on the blue-haired man, but they went back to Ichigo quickly. "What would you like?"

"A coke," Ichigo requested. Starrk raised a brow slightly but nodded and went to get a can. He slid both the glass of ice and can of coke across the countertop surface to Ichigo and went back to his daughter at the other end of the counter. Ichigo noticed the girl was staring at his direction, but knew she was looking at Grimmjow.

"Ya don't drink? Not surprising," Ichigo heard the man say as he poured the contents of the can into the glass. "Though, I could tell from last time you drank too much for your first time."

"Don't talk to me like you know me," Ichigo interrupted aggressively. Too aggressive that he realized he was being defensive and making his nervousness more obvious. And that was the last thing he'd want to show to the man who had killed a number of people. Ichigo wanted to slap himself.

"Oh, I know you, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said. Ichigo could tell the man was staring at him now, the grin still in place. He didn't dare to look at him. The Sexta's stare was intense. The man was sitting a mere seat away from him, but it felt as if his very breath was in his ear, his eyes boring holes in the side of his head. Ichigo knew if he even glanced at him, he'd be lost in those eyes that were so fucking blue and hollow yet never failed to intrigue him so much. "You're just like me, and that's already a fucking compliment, kid."

"To be just like a murderer is a compliment?" Ichigo gritted out, still not looking at him. "I don't see any praise in being similar to a sick fuck who only preys and guts innocent victims."

"Nobody is innocent," Grimmjow said, sounding almost pensive.

"What, you're being some judge now?" Ichigo shot back. He didn't know why he was so snappy. He had planned to sound calm but everything that came out of his mouth ended up angry and defensive. Maybe it was because he was afraid of stooping to the man's level. Or maybe he was just scared of being so personal and human around a monster. The  _other one_ was bugging him, nodding and agreeing with everything the Sexta said. The feeling was strong, and Ichigo hated that he was slowly beginning to feel the same way.

"Of course not," Grimmjow replied, his devilish grin returning. "There's no such thing as innocence unless you're a baby who has yet to be able to think. But that's not why I kill. I kill for a more… primal reason, and I'm sure you know it very well." He was grinning, laughing at him, Ichigo was positive of that. He chose not to reply.

"I'm just following instinct. Human instinct. Humans are hunters by nature, Kurosaki. But some of us just are born to … have  _stronger_  instincts than others." Ichigo tried to ignore the fact that he knew the man was including him in those 'some'. "Not only are we hunters, but we're naturally destructive. Towards ourselves or others, it doesn't matter. I'm just helping along."

"Then why don't you just shoot them, stab them?" Ichigo found himself asking. "Why do all those ritualistic bullshit that makes the victim suffer?" He felt his voice betray his thoughts, cracking slightly as he spoke. He heard the blue-haired man laugh, a sound that was both noise and music to his ears.

"That – is personal," Grimmjow said. "But let's just say it adds more flavor to the hunt for me."

"How primitive," Ichigo muttered with distaste, though he felt a little interest at the very thought of the thrill.

"Hunting has been around since forever," Grimmjow said condescendingly. "And hunting human game is the most thrilling thing of all. Have you ever tried it? Hunting wild game? Human game is so different, so much fucking better."

"Shut up, don't talk about other people's lives like that," Ichigo warned, finally snapping to his senses. What was he doing? He could somehow apprehend this guy right now. But he didn't have his cuffs with him at the moment. All he had was his badge and a Swiss army knife he occasionally carried around when he didn't have his gun. He clutched his left pocket discreetly to reassure himself. It was still there. Good. He thought over how he could get this guy again. He had nothing to link him to, only a confession. They could work on that, but the man looked like he could take any sort of torture that could be used to extract information. Aside from that, he was mentally beating the shit out of himself, because a large of part  _didn't_ want to apprehend the man. What the hell?

"Ya need to stop denying,  _Detective_ ," Grimmjow said, the grin diminishing into a knowing smirk. He had looked back to the front, allowing Ichigo to finally breathe properly.

"I'm denying nothing. I will arrest you. I will throw you in prison where you'll spend the rest of your life to rot in," Ichigo seethed. Anger was building up in him so much, he could feel goosebumps, which usually told him that  _it_ was excited. He could almost hear its giggle, but it was still hidden, just watching impatiently from wherever it was. It was uncanny, because what he felt from the other one was similar to what he felt from the blue-haired man. It was predatory, menacing, but it was almost disguised. They were both so similar, it was creepy.

"Sure you would," Grimmjow humored. He set his mug down and leaned a little to his left, closer to Ichigo, who tried not to show any weakness by moving away from him. "I've watched you Detective, and all I see is the hunger in your eyes whenever you look at everyone else. It's pathetic, seeing a hungry lion locking himself in a cage."

"If you don't like what you see then don't fucking look," Ichigo spat, gripping his glass tightly. He downed the coke in a second, thankful it wasn't alcohol. He needed to be clear headed for that night, especially with the Sexta there.

"You may be pathetic, but I'll admit that I do like looking at what I'm seeing," Grimmjow said smoothly, and Ichigo could practically hear him grinning as he said it. But it was what the man had said that surprised Ichigo enough for him to turn his head to look at him. Ichigo almost forgot to breathe. Almost as if he knew Ichigo's enchantment towards him, the Sexta smirked and said, "You're going to break the glass if you squeeze any tighter."

Ichigo immediately released his hold on his empty glass and stared at it, scowling. He had lost.

"You know, Kurosaki…" he heard the man say, trying to ignore how easily his name rolled off the man's lips. "The only real difference between us is that I follow my instincts, my true self. And you – well," there was humor in the Sexta's voice. "You're just a coward who's afraid of his own shadow."

Ichigo grit his teeth but felt truth in the man's words. He said nothing but listened as he heard movement from his right, and the clinking of coins. Grimmjow placed money on the countertop and got off the stool, heading for the exit. Ichigo quickly turned, watching his retreating back. He began to debate with himself on the choice he was about to make. The man was clearly beckoning him to follow him. It was an obvious trap, but his mind and body was already screaming at him:  _Follow him!_

Ichigo slammed money on the table and went out the door.

The Sexta was gone.

Ichigo looked left and right, then saw a glimpse of blue disappearing into an alleyway. It was screaming  _trap, trap, trap._ He was being led into the panther's den, but his feet ignored his commands and had Ichigo running after him. A few turns weaving through the network of narrow alleys and Ichigo found himself being pushed to the nearest wall again, just as he had been the first time. But this time he was aware, and had immediately flipped out his Swiss knife and pressed the blade against his attacker's neck.

Blue eyes stared gleefully into his and Ichigo felt a loss of breath again. He felt the cold metal of his blade against his own neck and felt himself almost shudder at the reminder of the pain it had inflicted on him. Grimmjow's other forearm pressed across his chest, his thigh having found a place in between Ichigo's legs, making the detective immobile and trying hard not to get aroused.

 _Fuck, fuck_ , why was he so sick around this psycho?

"Show me like you did last time," Grimmjow growled. "Show me all of it." Ichigo suddenly felt something brush against his back, fingertips on the scar and Ichigo realized the man's arm on his chest had moved without him noticing. He shuddered at the sensation of it, but fought not to make a sound. The Sexta's smirk spread into a grin, his sharp white teeth gleaming against the dim light and looking too sharp to be human. The man was taunting him.

This time Ichigo was ready. He'd fight him by himself, his own strength. But when the Sexta moved, he expected the man to hit him, not pull away. Finding himself strangely disappointed, Ichigo watched as the man stepped back, grinning, before he turned his back to him and walked on.

What the hell? Nevertheless, Ichigo followed after him briskly.

It was odd, that even though Ichigo had his eyes on him all the while, the Sexta moved fast and silent, like the panther he was. Every time Ichigo thought he caught up with him, the man reappeared at another corner a few meters from him, leading him somewhere Ichigo didn't know. He walked through the alleys, passing by numerous dumpsters, lamp posts, walls and gates, but the blue-haired man didn't seem like he would stop soon. Curiosity overwhelmed him, and Ichigo decided to just keep following and see what was it the man was leading him to.

Hopefully, it wasn't his death; it was too soon for the man to kill him, but Ichigo couldn't be too sure either.

It felt like a twenty minute walk before they arrived at their destination, wherever it was. Ichigo never knew such a place existed in Karakura. They were so far away from roads, lights, or people, Ichigo only saw brick walls. The only main source of light Ichigo could see was the moonlight from the full moon that hovered in the night sky alone without a trace of clouds.

There were hardly any windows on the buildings, just endless walls. It felt like he had been thrown into a maze all of a sudden. When Grimmjow had disappeared in front of him,Ichigo realized he had went into an abandoned shelter, tucked away in the belly of the back alleys. It was more like a shack, with a zinc plate roof haphazardly placed on rusted metal poles. It looked big enough for three people, but when Ichigo shoved back the ragged torn cloth that was made as a door, the blue-haired man wasn't in sight. Instead, a fully-clothed male body was on the ground, lying on his stomach in a pool of blood.

"What the…" Ichigo almost yelled in shock, but a hand clasped over his throat, almost crushing his windpipe and his body was wrapped tightly by a strong arm. The detective knew it was the Sexta. He had him trapped again.

"No need to act so surprised," Grimmjow growled into his ear. Ichigo repressed a groan, though he was fighting hard to breathe with the man's hand gripping his throat. Almost as if reading his thoughts, Grimmjow let go but grabbed his chin instead and forced him to look at the body, and Ichigo realized the body was still breathing. "Yes, he's still alive."

Why didn't kill him? How long had this man been left that way? Ichigo asked himself. Why did he lead me here…? He heard the other laugh, and realized immediately.  _He wants us to kill this guy._

"That's right, I want you to kill him," Grimmjow said. Why? Ichigo asked again. Was it just him or did this man know his every thought? Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a bad dream. "No use denying, Kurosaki, I'm giving you the chance you've been waiting for."

"Chance at what? To be a murderer like you? Hell fucking  _no_ ," Ichigo gritted out, snapping his eyes open to glare at the man.  _Shut up, Ichigo. This is my time now,_ the other one said, its voice stronger than Ichigo had ever heard before. No!

"You are a killer, Kurosaki, you know you are."

_We killed mom._

No! I didn't! It was the mugger!

_But we didn't do anything to save or protect her. You wanted her dead._

No!

_You wanted to kill._

No, no, no!

_You loved the smell of blood. You don't remember but you even played with it._ _Toyed with the knife and the blood._

NO!

"Hey," Grimmjow growled in his ear. Ichigo snapped back to reality, noticing that he was breathing heavily. The Sexta was studying him with a scowl - a curious expression. Ichigo stared at him, wide eyed, his face slick with sweat and still trapped in the man's grasp. He grabbed one of Ichigo's hands and slipped it into the detective's pocket, where he brought the Swiss knife out and almost deliberately brushing against his inner thigh and groin.  _Fuck…_  He felt the man grin as he brought the knife out, the blade glistening in what little light there was from the night sky. "You sharpened it too. Meant to cut and slice cleanly - not really needed for self-defense, does it? Do you need any more evidence of your need to kill?"

"I didn't," Ichigo rasped out. Or did he? He didn't know, he really didn't. Ichigo shut his eyes again, as if trying to shut everything out. He opened his eyes again and looked around, before landing on the body on the floor again. "But I wanted to try."

Grimmjow flashed him a predatory grin and a look that was close to a leer. "He's all yours," the Sexta said, nudging him towards the body. The man was unconscious, but still breathing.

"How long did you leave him…?" The Sexta just gave him a smirk, and Ichigo didn't want to know the answer. But he knew the man was dying. He'd lost too much blood. Grimmjow had released him from his grip, and Ichigo felt his body move on its own towards the body. The Swiss knife in his hand felt heavier for some reason, but Ichigo moved on.

He let the body lie on the back, and the person stirred slightly, but knew he could do no more than that. He was bleeding from multiple angry stab wounds in his stomach. The victim was young, probably his age, and didn't look too bad either, though he had been badly bruised from the usual fist fight that came before the armed attack. The dying man looked like he would have a promising future ahead of him, and Ichigo was beginning to feel fear and doubt again. He had no right to end the man's life.

_But he's going to die anyway. Look, he's suffering. End it for him._

The victim's eyes opened slightly and they made eye contact for a brief moment. The man's eyes pleaded with him, as if saying 'Just end it for me already'. Ichigo shuddered, and consciously gripped his knife tighter. Ichigo knew the Sexta was still watching him, though he could feel no presence behind him where the man was supposed to be.

_Kill him, aibou…_

The victim lost consciousness again and Ichigo pressed the blade of his knife against the man's throat. He could hear his own ragged breathing, his sweat sliding down along his face and dripping off his chin. Time seemed to stand still, and then –

Ichigo flipped the victim back on his stomach and yanked his head up. Without hesitation, he sliced the neck, almost slowly and carefully and watched with wide, golden eyes, at the blood that poured out and accompanied by the strangled gurgle the victim made.

"Good to see ya," Ichigo heard the other man say. Ichigo whirled around, but the man wasn't there. The Sexta had gone. The detective looked back at the body, now no longer breathing. He looked at his hands. They were bloody. Did... did he just do it?

'No, no, no… This can't be happening…' Ichigo thought. He didn't want to face it anymore, and so his world faded to black.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ichigo are you alright?" Rukia asked when Ichigo sat at his desk. Since he was transferred he was sitting at another area, and had just returned from his leave.

"Yeah I'm okay, what's up?"

"I tried to contact you for the past two days about what we found, but I couldn't reach you. I called your phone, even went to your place, but you didn't answer," Rukia told him, her expression set in a frown of worry.

"Really? I should be home… maybe I didn't hear you?" Ichigo replied. He was feeling tired and sleepy again, like he had before. Rukia shook her head but sat down beside him.

"Anyway, it's about that Nikolai Grimshaw. I checked out the database, but there's nothing," Rukia said. "I checked out yellow pages and all that too, but apparently there's no such person registered as Nikolai Grimshaw."

"So it's just an alias?"

"I guess so." Ichigo looked thoughtful.

"So this Grimshaw might be Grimmjow's alias."

"Perhaps, but we can't say for sure."

"I kinda told Urahara-san Grimmjow's name, so maybe I can ask him later?"

"Oh, why didn't you say so earlier? I'm sure he'd be able to get something."

"I hope so…"

"Ichigo, Rukia," someone interrupted. It was Renji. "You know about the latest victim right?" Rukia nodded but Ichigo just looked at him blankly.

"You mean the one found in the alley that was in the news?" Ichigo asked.

"Yeah, he was found yesterday. I wanted to talk to you about that too," Rukia added as Renji joined them by pulling in another chair for himself.

"Another victim of the Sexta,right? Though he still had his stomach intact."

"Yeah, but…" Renji scratched the back of his head. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're not really sure it's the Sexta. The manner of killing is similar, but it's just different, somehow. First thing is because the stomach's intact, second's the way the throat is slit."

"What do you mean?"

"From Kurotsuchi and Kensei-san, they said all the wounds were made by the same weapon, the combat knife," Renji said. "All the wounds, except for the throat."

"They're not sure what weapon was used to cut the throat, but the way the flesh was cut was different from how the Sexta used to," Rukia told him, her eyes looking at Ichigo in a strange way. "I heard that there's a possibility that the Sexta might have had a partner for this one."

"A partner…?" Ichigo repeated. He didn't know why he felt so giddy. For some reason he didn't remember the days of his leave, but he remembered the fleeting scent of alcohol, blood and the glinting of a knife. Was he missing something? He couldn't remember, but he felt like he did something bad.

"Are you okay, Ichigo? You look pale…" Renji looked at the orange haired detective uncomfortably. He glanced at Rukia and lowered his voice even softer. "Did you... do something without knowing?"

Ichigo shook his head and turned to his computer mumbling, "I don't know…"

Both Rukia and Renji looked at each other. They really hoped that their friend didn't do anything, but there was something about him that made them suspect that he did, and they hoped that the other police didn't feel the same way as they did. They left him alone and went back to their work.

Ichigo did his work silently, looking dazed and out of it throughout the day.

After working hours, Urahara called Ichigo to his office. Ichigo went to his office, wondering what was there to discuss.

"Hello, Kurosaki-san," the captain greeted. For once he was clean-shaven, and Ichigo couldn't help but smile in amusement. "How was your leave?"

"It was okay I guess. Cleaned up the house and did a lot of thinking."

"Did you? That's good then," Urahara said, nodding. "What did you think about?"

"Just stuff." Urahara nodded again.

"Well Kurosaki-san, did Kuchiki-san and Abarai-san tell you that you were out of contact in your last two days of leave?" Ichigo began to fidget.

"Yeah they did."

"May I ask where were you? You really had me worried when Kuchiki-san told me she couldn't reach you, Ichigo," Urahara was using his first name again.

"I don't know, I can't remember," Ichigo answered.

"People said they saw you hanging out at a bar," Urahara said. "But you weren't drinking. You were talking to someone."

"I can't remember…"

"Did you talk to this 'Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez' you mentioned to me before?"

"No, I didn't," Ichigo frowned. "I wanted you to help me look for him. Did you?"

"I tried, but nothing," Urahara said. Ichigo had a feeling he wasn't being truthful. There was something in the man's eyes that told him he was hiding something, but he didn't know what. "Is it supposed to be the Sexta's name?"

"I really don't know," Ichigo said, frowning deeply. Urahara sighed.

"Well, I just wanted to know if you're alright. I'm afraid, things might not be good for you Kurosaki-san," the captain said. "Some people have heard that you are seeing a psychiatrist, and the incident with Rukia has leaked out somehow. They are saying nasty things, and some are even suspecting you as the Sexta."

"What? What the hell! How did I end up being that?" Ichigo snapped.

"The incident where you found the victim was the one that made you the closest to being the suspect. And your…  _strangeness_  has fueled their feelings towards you. Your leave has also become a base for rumors." Ichigo's hand flew to his head, massaging his scalp and trying to will his headache away. Why was this happening?

"What am I supposed to do now?" Urahara gave him a sympathetic look.

"I want you to go back home straight away after work, but keep seeing Aizen for your sessions," Urahara told him. "And I want you to stop your own investigation, Ichigo. This time I'm afraid it's best you stay away from knowing too much of this case."

Ichigo inhaled deeply. "Yeah… yeah, I'll try."

Urahara gave him a tired smile. "Please take care of yourself, Kurosaki-san…"

"I will," Ichigo said and left the room.

Not a minute later another person entered. He was rather tall, with long raven hair that went past his shoulders. He had a stern haughty look on his handsome, almost beautiful, features and wore a pale grey coat over his white shirt. It was another captain from another precinct, and also the brother of Kuchiki Rukia.

"Captain Kuchiki Byakuya, what brings you here?" Urahara tried to look surprised at the man's presence in his office. He had expected an outsider to his precinct to come forward for a while now.

"I've been sent here to investigate one of your men, Urahara," Kuchiki Byakuya said.

"I'm sorry?" Urahara asked, trying to keep up his act of surprise. But he guessed, he did feel some surprise. It was a little too soon. The other captain did not look amused at his feigning ignorance.

"I know that you know more about this, Urahara Kisuke. There's been suspicion that Detective Kurosaki Ichigo may be involved in more ways than one in the Sexta case."


	11. Chapter 11

Again, he had seen the detective  _again_. Grimmjow couldn't believe his luck. And it seemed the young lion was not that far away either. When Kurosaki had finally looked up and at him in the bar, he had seen the tints of gold in the detective's eyes – a shade of color he had grown to be really fond of. They had a little chat and not many words were needed to sway the detective. Having Kurosaki follow him was as easy, just like before. The detective was almost as naïve as his usual victims but he was special. Kurosaki was so much more.

Grimmjow loved it when he had fought back, flicking out that Swiss blade of his against him so fast even he could hardly catch it, and pressing the cold metal on his neck just like Grimmjow would on his victims. He had known what to do to get the detective riled up. A little close contact and a stare in the eye would leave him breathless, and of course, while he was distracted, Grimmjow just had to know how his little branding turned out.

He had wanted Kurosaki to show his other side, just as he did last time. To remind him, Grimmjow's fingertips grazed the scarred skin on the detective's back and Grimmjow held back a satisfied groan. He had imagined it'd look good on Kurosaki's lithe, smooth back. He had flashed Kurosaki a grin instead and left him there.  _Follow me, Kurosaki. This time I'll bring that lion out._

Grimmjow hadn't exactly plan it out. He had just left his last kill to die from his wounds and clean up later. But he knew the man wouldn't be dead yet. Bleeding out would take a while. If he was going to die anyway, Grimmjow thought it'd probably be good to let the young lion have a taste of what he's been missing out on. He smirked at the thought and walked on, through his den that was a network of dark endless alleys.

And when finally, Kurosaki's eyes saw the dying body, Grimmjow couldn't resist from holding him.

The detective was trembling.

Such a kid, Grimmjow thought with amusement. So confused, by what he was seeing. He had smelled fear from the detective, but there was the strong scent of excitement as well. He grinned. The lion was there, watching, rumbling impatiently.

"You are a killer, Kurosaki, you know you are," he hadsaid into the other's ear, and he greatly believed in that.

He fished out the Swiss knife the detective had used on him before from his pocket, and knew since that time that it was sharpen to seriously injure, if not kill. Oh, it hadn't take long for Kurosaki to cave in. So fucking easy. Kurosaki could tell what Grimmjow had in mind.

"I wanted to try," Kurosaki had admitted. Those magic words were close to making Grimmjow slam him into the nearest wall and devour him whole. Sexually or literally, it made no difference to Grimmjow. He grinned, pleased at the detective's decision and released him.

The detective was still scared as he made his way to the dying man. But all that changed when the detective was gone and the hungered lion took over. It was brief, probably present for only a minute or two, while he slit the man's throat and watched the blood pour out of the cut. Those hungry, golden eyes told him it was no mistake; the lion he had been trying to lure out.

Grimmjow never felt happier. Once you do it, you can't turn back. The lion would want more blood, more meat to kill its hunger. But not yet… For a moment Grimmjow wondered why he wanted to bring lion out so much. Was it because he was lonely…? Or maybe the detective was just special. He hadn't met another predator after all. Whatever the reason, he planned to kill Kurosaki later anyway. All he had done was just for fun.

"Good to see ya," he had said to both the lion and the detective, who had returned to his body and standing still before the dead body. It didn't matter, and he was gone before Kurosaki would notice him going. He'd let him walk away first and retrieve the body for display later.

Grimmjow had to relieve himself of his excitement from the sight of Kurosaki snuffing out a life before he went back to the body for the clean up.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo made his way to Aizen's office building. He'd gone back to work after a few days of leave, and after his first day of returning to the office, he felt like he was being watched. Not when he was outside on his way home or anything, but at his own workplace. He thought he'd seen Rukia's brother, Kuchiki Byakuya, a captain from another precinct hanging around the place, but he wasn't sure. Rukia seemed too busy for him to bother at the moment, and Urahara had warned him not to continue his own investigation. Was it possible that he was being investigated at the moment? With Kuchiki Byakuya hanging around the precinct for some reason seemed good enough for Ichigo to suspect that he was.

Ichigo told himself to stop. Stop following the Sexta case. You're out of the team, you're not supposed to continue, Urahara said not to! Ichigo frowned and walked hurriedly. He had to stop, but he couldn't. He felt like he knew too much about the Sexta to stop. The Sexta – Grimmjow – had spoken to him, interacted with him, physically, verbally… almost emotionally. But that could just be from his side. He didn't think serial killers have feelings of compassion or empathy. All they thought of were for their own gain, their pleasure. Ichigo was just one of the Sexta's sick pleasures. He was sure he was just a play toy to the predator.

As he walked along the pavement, passing other people, Ichigo tried to recall the last few days of his leave. He couldn't remember, strangely. It was all fuzzy. And he had been feeling a little detached, dreamy, as he had before when he couldn't remember things. Did something happen? Urahara said people saw him at a bar. Which bar? Halibel's? Starrk's? Some other bar he had staked out at before? He couldn't remember. The last thing he did remember was finishing a session with Aizen. Ichigo had regained a painful memory, something he didn't want to remember. In fact now the memory had gone distant once again. Not that he'd like to return to it anytime soon.

It was just that. Regaining his memory and feeling jittery, restless, and of course, the pain. He remembered anger and guilt. And then everything after that session faded from his memory. He thought he could only remember the smell of alcohol and… blood. Accompanying the smells was the feeling that he'd done something bad. It was a nostalgic feeling, one that he felt when he was younger.

He finally reached the building and rode up the elevator. When he stepped out, he saw the beautiful green haired woman again, who flashed him the smile she always did. Ichigo nodded and returned the smile and walked to the receptionist, who gestured that the psychiatrist was ready to see him.

The detective entered after a knock.

"Good evening, Kurosaki-kun, how was your day at work?" Aizen asked pleasantly with his usual faux smile. Ichigo tried to be nice.

"For a workaholic like me, it's nice to be working again," Ichigo replied.

"Any problems then? When you left last session, I was quite worried about you," the doctor said, in which the detective tried not to scoff at his concern. "Even Urahara Kisuke was worried. You were not contactable for those few days."

Ichigo tried to make himself comfortable in his seat. "That," he began. "I can't remember." Aizen's brows twitched slightly at the mention of amnesia.

"That means something happened."

"I guess," Ichigo shrugged.

"You sound a little like you're in denial or just trying to avoid the matter," Aizen told him. "I think that means you know you've done something. Well maybe not you, perhaps another you. When you have your fugues, your amnesia, it's because you don't want to remember or another part of you is trying to protect you from seeing or remembering something." Ichigo scowled, but did not answer.

"Is it the bad one? Or the other, Zangetsu?"

"I can't remember, so how would I know?"

"Your captain mentioned that people saw you at a bar, talking with somebody. Heatedly, might I add," Aizen steered to another direction.

"About that," Ichigo interrupted. "Did these people say anything about the guy I was with?"

"Your captain didn't say. And I assume the people did not say anything either."

"Hmph," Ichigo glared at an empty space. "I can't remember any of it. I only remember leaving the session last time."

"That is strange," Aizen commented. The detective shrugged, feeling listless. Silence hung over them for a moment.

"But I feel like I've done something bad," Ichigo blurted out. "But I don't know what. I've felt this way before."

"Do you think it has something to do with conversing with this mysterious man you were seen with?"

"I don't know, maybe. If people could describe me the guy, then I could make a good guess," Ichigo replied, irritated that people identified him but said nothing about the guy he was with. He felt that he may have talked to someone he didn't expect to meet so soon.

"Can you further describe this bad feeling?"

"It's…" Ichigo paused trying to properly convey the feeling he had into words. "It's a bit weird. I guess it's like when you have an evil intent and you've done it without meaning to. I've felt it before, but they weren't often… " Aizen wanted to ask something but Ichigo cut him off, adding, "Actually, that's a little like how I feel when the… 'other one' is around. I feel…  _evil_."

"That's good Kurosaki-kun, continue. When were the other times you've had this feeling?" the psychiatrist prodded.

"I'm not sure…"But Ichigo closed his eyes; another memory was flashing in his head, accompanied by the other's voice saying, _Here,I'll remind you._

He -  _they_  were six years old, a year after their mother had died. They had killed their neighbor's pet parrot. They hated that bird. It was so noisy. Every time they passed the neighbor's house, the damned bird was there at the window, shrieking at his presence like it was taunting them. They hated that stupid bird.

 _He_  broke its wings.

 _He_  broke its neck.

The bird didn't make a sound anymore.

But Ichigo didn't mean to kill it. He saw the neighbor's boy crying. He felt bad. He didn't mean to make him cry.

_At least I shut that stupid bird up._

Ichigo found himself staring at his hands again. Yeah, it was at that time he felt that evil feeling. Only when he actually hurt or  _killed_  something, without meaning to, that he felt that feeling. Did that mean he had… had hurt someone?  _Killed_  someone?

The detective inhaled too sharply, making Aizen question him. "Something the matter, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Nothing," Ichigo said. "I was just trying to remember when it was that I had the feeling, but it was so long ago."

"Do you remember any event then?"

"I…" He wasn't sure whether to tell the doctor or not.

"You have to share these things with me, Kurosaki-kun. We have to get to the root of the problem," Aizen persisted.

"When we were six, we killed the neighbor's parrot. But I didn't mean to. That was the first time I had that feeling," Ichigo admitted. For the first time Aizen looked a little worried. He did not miss the 'we' that Ichigo used. But it also seemed that he saw what Ichigo was thinking. "I know right?" was all Ichigo could say with a humorless, nervous laugh. Aizen was not smiling though, and  _that_  unnerved the detective.

"Do you think you harmed anyone, Kurosaki-kun?" the doctor asked seriously, speaking out both of their thoughts. Ichigo felt himself pale, cornered by the question even though he was expecting it.

"I don't know." That was his favorite answer.

"Kurosaki-kun, you have to think deep within yourself. Ask yourself, did you think you harmed anyone?"

"I… I really don't know," Ichigo repeated, looking sick.

"Kurosaki-kun…" Silence. "Detective, I-"

"He didn't," Ichigo suddenly said. Aizen stopped and eyed his patient. The voice was different. High pitched and a little deranged. He'd heard a trace of that voice before in the previous session. The detective was looking at him dead in the eye, and the psychiatrist noted the change of eye color. No longer brown, they were gold, like those on a lion.

"Excuse me?" Aizen said, trying to appear disbelieving.

"He didn't. Boy's too pussy for that, though he desires it," Ichigo repeated, smiling as he spoke.

"Detective, I'm afraid I don't –"

"You're pretending that I don't exist now? You've been talking about me…" Ichigo leaned back in his chair, his demeanor completely changed. He was relaxed, smug and playful, but there was an aura of danger surrounding him. The way he looked at the other man was condescending. His way of speaking had also changed, from his tone and voice to the choice of words.

"You are Kurosaki Ichigo, are you not?"

"Yes and no," the detective replied playfully. "I remember you wanted to talk to me, didn't ya? Well here I am."

Aizen hesitated. "Is Kurosaki-kun aware of this conversation then?"

"No," the other said simply.

"Why? Is there a reason for him to not go through this?" Aizen asked, and the other man smirked. Aizen's brow began to furrow in suspicion.

"Because you are annoying the fuck outta him by asking him the question," the other Ichigo replied casually. "Ichigo doesn't know it, but he has quite the bad temper. Yep, when he's really angry or really annoyed, he'd want to kill the source of his annoyance."

"Is that a threat?" Aizen asked, discreetly moving back in his chair. The other Ichigo didn't fail to notice it though and smirked tauntingly.

"But Ichigo doesn't feel that anger, because I'm the one who feels it. I'm the one who feels rage and pain. Ichigo's the pampered little King," the other Ichigo said with a smug smile.

"He's very angry with me, that's why he becomes you?" Aizen tried to keep the conversation safe and continue extracting information.

"I just take his place. He can't become me. We're two different people. But that's only when he feels angry, but there are also other certain events that make him wanna swap places with me. He doesn't know he can do that because he's an ignorant idiot."

"And what of this 'Zangetsu'?"

"Ya know, it's not good for ya to be a pretentiuos asshole," the other Ichigo continued, ignoring his question with that disconcerting smile. "Ichigo really doesn't like you." Aizen kept himself calm.

"What about you?"

"Me?" the other Ichigo laughed, no – cackled like a maniac. It was high pitched and shrill, but the psychiatrist kept his cool. He saw no sign however, that he would be tackled to the ground, a hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing the breath out of him. "Me? I fucking  _loathe_  you, Doctor Aizen Sousuke _._ "

"You're hiding something," the detective continued, golden eyes gleaming evilly, "and I know whatever you're hiding is threatening my King. Be warned that if I feel anything is up, you  _will_ die. But as for now, be thankful that Ichigo sees you as a way out, as a means to get well, or you'd have been long dead,  _doctor_ ," the other Ichigo hissed dangerously. His eyes shined golden, his insane smile still plastered on his face, and the hand was still gripping the psychiatrist's throat painfully, the fingers digging into his neck.

The detective released him and straightened his clothes. Aizen got up and straightened himself out as well, though he looked a little less disturbed than he should be.

"So I assume you really did kill someone," Aizen muttered. Ichigo glanced at him and smirked.

"We didn't mean to," he added in what seemed like a trace of Ichigo's normal voice. He then looked at Aizen in the eye with the smirk held in place. "I think Ichigo will be a bit preoccupied to be visiting your sessions for a while," he said, and left the room.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Were you the one who suggested Kurosaki Ichigo to see a psychiatrist?" Kuchiki Byakuya asked Urahara Kisuke.

"Yes," the older captain said.

"Why is that? Did you know he had some mental illness or something of the sort?"

"No I didn't, but I felt like he needed some help, someone to talk to."

"He could talk to his friends, his family, or you, his mentor," Byakuya said. Urahara gave a small smile.

"Yes, but I felt he needed someone whom he could talk his real problems to."

"Problems such as?"

"I can't say, I'm not a psychiatrist," Urahara said.

"But you felt he had problems," Byakuya pointed out. " _Mental_  problems, since you suggested a psychiatrist."

"Everyone has problems. Everyone's a little neurotic."

"But his problems needed professional help?" Byakuya ignored the last comment, and instead went straight at it in pushing the right buttons. The older captain just smiled and said no more. Byakuya continued, "I would like to have the name of the psychiatrist he is seeing."

"Alright," Urahara passed the long haired captain a name card. "Dr. Aizen Sousuke. He's helping us with criminal profiling as well." Byakuya raised an eyebrow at him.

"Profiling the Sexta?" Urahara nodded. Byakuya checked the namecard. "I've heard his name before. He's quite known for handling some of the criminally insane." Urahara shrugged.

"I didn't know that."

"Really," Byakuya merely said. "What were the reasons he gave for the few days of leave Kurosaki Ichigo took recently? I heard that he had a fight as well."

"He went to the doctor to patch him up for his wounds from that fight and Dr Aizen wrote a letter. Something like a medical leave."

"May I see the letter?" Urahara frowned and was reluctant, but he knew it would only make it worse for Ichigo. He decided to cooperate and go along with it. Byakuya read the paper given to him quickly, his face remaining stern. "'Major stress'?"

"I think it was from the victim he found at the crime scene. He was very nervous after that particular one, since there was a lot of blood and guts, much messier and more gruesome than when the Sexta lays it out for us somewhere else," Urahara told him.

"I see. Do you have him tell you when he attends the session with the psychiatrist?"

"Sometimes, but usually Dr Aizen would fill me in."

"So does he fill you in with the content of the sessions as well?"

"No, that's confidential he says."

"Thank you for cooperating, Captain Urahara Kisuke." The younger captain stood from his chair, already moving towards the door.

"My pleasure, Captain Kuchiki."

"One more thing," Byakuya said as he stopped by the door. "How long have you known Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"A very long time. I am close friends with his father, after all," Urahara replied.

"Yes, Detective Kurosaki Isshin. So you are close to Kurosaki Ichigo as well?"

"I suppose so," Urahara merely gave. He loved Ichigo like a son, but he knew it wasn't wise for him to say that. The other captain would see him as being bias towards the orange haired detective. "May I know how long you'd be around?"

"I can't say. You should know there is a lot of work to be done when we're investigating one of our own."

"So does that mean you're not helping with the Sexta case?"

"Aren't I doing that now?" Urahara's lips twitched in an attempt to smile.

"Yes, that's right. Well, are you going to see how Miss Kuchiki is doing?"

"No, I have other work to do," Byakuya said coldly, and exited the room. Urahara exhaled loudly in his chair. Things really looked bad for Ichigo.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Kuchiki Byakuya, meanwhile, was doing his job seriously. The other captains had voiced their concerns about rumors spreading from the Police Precinct that held as headquaters for the Sexta case. Urahara Kisuke had alleged that he received an anonymous tip-off about the victim found by the outskirts of town. He was the one who spread that the Rokuban had called himself Sexta. There was no proof of that, but they had went along with it since the taunting message at the organ dump site a month ago was in Spanish as well.

That was what they believed, that the Sexta was a foreign man from the West. He was either Spanish or knew the language, but not likely local. He prowled for victims at bars that were gathering places for the foreigners who lived in Karakura. That was the lead the the whole Police force had.

But now he, Kuchiki Byakuya had to investigate this young detective who was a star when he first started out. Some rumors had spread that made some think that Kurosaki Ichigo was the partner to the Sexta. That itself was quite ludicrous, as the detective was a hard worker and talented at cracking cases, seemingly knowing who to dismiss or to pinpoint as suspects. At some times he seemed to know what the criminals would or would not do. His father, Kurosaki Isshin was a great detective as well, whom he had helped in some way or another in cracking some cases. But now, did the young Kurosaki Ichigo really fall so low, to be involved with the Sexta? Was his talent at thinking like the criminals and killers an early sign of his own darker side? It was not likely, the long-haired captain thought. And his younger sister, Rukia was close to the young man as well. She trusted him with all her heart, despite Byakuya having voiced his dislike towards the sardonic man when they first met before. He trusted his sister's judgment because he knew Rukia was smarter than that. That was what Byakuya wanted to believe but…

With some complaints against the orange haired detective, the raven-haired captain was assigned to investigate. It was a big deal, since they were after all, looking at one of their own. The first complaint was his increasing nervousness and eagerness to be involved in the case. Then somehow someone knew that he was seeing a psychiatrist, and found out it was Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo's own captain and mentor who suggested him to see one. For what reason, the man would not say, which only adds to the suspicion.

The second complaint was that Kurosaki Ichigo  _had_  assaulted one of the members in the investigating team. That was kept a secret among them, but it had somehow leaked out. He had turned to his subordinate, Abarai Renji, who avoided the whole discussion. He didn't need to ask Rukia; he thought he had seen a slight bruise on her neck before and knew the rumor was true. But what he also knew was that his sister didn't believe that it was the orange haired detective's fault. It seemed like she knew something about him, that only Urahara and her seemed to know.

He'd have to question his own sister later.

There was also that time when Kurosaki Ichigo had reported a finding of a victim at the crime scene, where the killing had taken place. That was the first and only time they found a victim in that state, and the detective, though shaken and disturbed, seemed to be bothered by something else, something inward.

Then he quit the team a few days after finding the victim that was supposedly found through the anonymous tip off. It was recorded he skipped a day of work before he quit, and then he took a few days of leave. And in one of those days, he was seen hanging out at one of the bars the victims mostly hung out at, was unreachable and then another victim was found a distance away from said bar.

The detective had too much connection to the case, to the victims. It would be natural for the man to be a suspect, but the captain felt there was something off in his connection, like he was led into it. The fortunate thing for the orange haired detective was that there was no evidence that directly linked him to any of the victims.

No matter, Byakuya thought, he had to investigate further. If what he found really makes Kurosaki Ichigo a partner to the Sexta, or even the Sexta himself, then so be it.


	12. Chapter 12

"How long have you been treating Kurosaki Ichigo?" Byakuya asked the smiling doctor.

"A little more than a couple of months. Since the official start of the Rokuban – Sexta case. His captain Urahara Kisuke asked me whether he could assess him, and if the detective didn't mind it, treat him if there were any problems," Aizen said smoothly.

"So he does have problems, since you are treating him now."

"Yes, quite. But it's confidential," Aizen told him.

"We have to know, doctor. This involves a serial murder. Kurosaki Ichigo may have something to do with it," Byakuya said sternly. "You are helping the police with the Sexta case as well, aren't you? This is not so different."

"If you put it that way, then I suppose so," Aizen replied, still looking relaxed and smiling. He leaned back in his chair and took the file from the desk in front of him. "I'm still in the middle of assessing him. He's a quite the strange one. Strange but intriguing."

"What is the possible diagnosis?" Byakuya asked impatiently.

"Frankly I'm still not sure. He might be a schizophrenic or has a dissociative type of hysteria," Aizen explained. "The more likely but also more questionable possible diagnosis is Dissociative Identity Disorder," Aizen ended simply. When Byakuya gave a blank look, he added, "I mean Multiple Personality Disorder, as it is more famously known." Hearing that, the black haired captain merely raised an eyebrow despite his surprise.

"Multiple personality?" Byakuya repeated.

"Yes it's hard to believe, but he gives the symptoms closest to that. I myself still don't believe it, actually, which is why I'm still assessing him."

"Isn't it likely that he is acting?" Byakuya said.

"Yes. But he'd be pretty good at acting if he really is," Aizen replied.

"He's possibly schizophrenic, you say. So does he hear voices?"

"Yes, he talks about them. And he did say he sometimes listen to them, though he hasn't really admitted that any of the things he did were harmful." It sounded like a plausible reason for killing, one that goes well with an insanity plea, Byakuya thought.

"Did he say how long he's been this way?"

"Since childhood. It appears that some traumatic event led him to this state," Aizen said. "Since you're a captain, I'm sure you know about the tragedy the Kurosaki family went through quite a long time ago." Byakuya thought over what the doctor was talking about.

"I think I've read about that before," Byakuya nodded. Since Kurosaki supposedly went mentally ill since a traumatic event in his childhood, he could have gone wayward anytime before, but why now? Did he somehow get contact with the Sexta and got pulled in by him? Byakuya continued his questioning. "This is fine and all, but is he violent?"

"He shows tendencies of it."

"Has he acted out in any of the sessions?"

"...Yes, once I suppose," Aizen said calmly. Byakuya took note of the barely noticeable pause.

"Did he harm you?"

"Not exactly." Byakuya took that as a yes.

"Since you say he can be violent, do you think he is capable of killing, then?"

Aizen fixed his eyes on Byakuya's dark grey ones. His smile did not leave his face though it diminished a little, as he answered firmly, "Yes."

And that was all Byakuya needed to get Kurosaki Ichigo.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

When Ichigo went to work the next day, he didn't expect to be greeted by a couple of officers. He saw Urahara by his office door, looking sadly at him, and when he was told he was to follow the officers, Ichigo knew what was happening. He supposed after what Urahara had said to him earlier, he was quite expecting it, especially since he'd blacked out at Aizen's office and came to with another feeling of evil. Ichigo wouldn't be surprised to know that he'd be charged with the murder of his own psychiatrist too.

Ichigo was led to the interrogation room, walking past the large office that held the Sexta investigation team. Rukia and Renji looked confused as he walked past, while Yumichika and Ikkaku just looked on. They seemed as confused as the rest of the staff, who were already beginning to whisper among themselves. Before he went into the room he had to turn out his pockets, and Ichigo had to turn in his things, which included his Swiss knife. Ichigo ignored him and felt almost relieved at the silence as he entered the interrogation room and the door behind him closed.

He was left alone until a minute or two later. Byakuya entered the room, his presence strong and cold. He took a seat across Ichigo and looked at the detective in the eye.

"Do you know why you're here, Kurosaki?"

"I did something bad?" Ichigo answered, in almost child-like manner. Byakuya eyed him.

"There are a lot of things people have been saying, Kurosaki."

"People always say things about me."

"About you and the Sexta case." Ichigo's brows furrowed.

"Yeah I've heard."

"And what do you think about that?"

"I guess it's understandable. I know I've been missing and been found at wrong places at the wrong time," Ichigo said.

"Yes, that," Byakuya folded his arms. "You were seen in a bar the last victim was seen at."

"A coincidence?" Ichigo sighed. He felt tired of all the questions. He already had enough from Aizen.

"We'll be searching your apartment," Byakuya informed him.

"I was expecting that," Ichigo shrugged. "Go on."

"You'll have to be confined for a few days here as well."

"What?" Ichigo stood up from his chair immediately, the steel legs of the furniture scraping noisily against the concrete floor. Byakuya didn't move at the outburst. "You don't have any reason to hold me!"

"Unfortunately, we do. We have to take some precautions," Byakuya said.

"What're you-"

"Your psychiatrist told us you're very unstable. When anxious, you are highly likely to have homicidal or suicidal tendencies."

"What? That son of a -!" Ichigo began pacing the room, panting heavily and holding his fist. He tried to calm himself down. He took a minute before he went back to sit on the chair. Byakuya noticed the change of color in the detective's eyes. "Okay, I admit I do have some…  _problems._ But I swear I will never hurt someone. I can't do the same thing that took away…. Look, I just can't have."

Byakuya meant to say that he probably wasn't aware of his actions anyway, but he decided not to. Besides, they still have no concrete evidence to pin him to the crimes with the Sexta. "Kurosaki, we're not arresting you. We're just looking out and making sure. You've done this to suspects before as well, I'm sure you know."

"Yeah…" Ichigo said slowly before he hung his head low. "Yeah."

Byakuya left the room to see Rukia looking disappointed at him. Byakuya merely gave her a cold glance before he went to continue his work. His job was important. Rukia should know that.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Dr Aizen Sousuke speaking."

"Aizen," Urahara greeted in a flat tone. He wasn't in the mood to joke at the moment.

"Captain Urahara? Why the sudden call?" the doctor replied in his pretentiously pleasant tone.

"Why did you tell that to Byakuya?"

"Tell what?"

"That Ichigo is capable of killing."

"I'm supposed to tell the truth aren't I?"

"But he can't have. He's not one of them, even if he does give off the vibe. I told you that. I expected you to help him get away from that path but it looks like you've made it worse," Urahara said, his words pouring out quickly but his tone was calm and collected.

"I'm afraid by the time you've already passed him to me he was too far gone. He was in denial, yes, but he also knows and was bordering on fully embracing it. I didn't do anything to push him to the other side," Aizen explained to him. Urahara sighed and took a moment to answer.

"Aizen," Urahara began again. "Did you tell him anything about your previous cases?"

"Pardon?"

"Your previous patients. The one you were quite interested in ten years ago, if I'm trying to be specific," Urahara said. The other line went quiet.

"No," the doctor finally answered. "He must have heard it from somewhere or looked through some files at your side."

"We don't keep files on the deceased."

"An article maybe?"

"No, nobody heard of him, because he was still a minor and the case is a decade old."

"Maybe Kurosaki-kun saw his ghost," Aizen said, and Urahara wasn't sure whether he was joking.

"I appreciate the joke, Aizen, but now's not really the time."

"It's possible, isn't it? Since…"

"Yeah, I know. But tell me, you're not comparing Ichigo with him, are you?"

"Actually, yes, I am," Aizen replied coolly. "The both of them are uncannily similar. Only that Kurosaki-kun hasn't given in yet, though close. Since you asked, I assume you've thought of the same thing as well?"

"Hmph," Urahara muttered, shrugging to himself. "I didn't notice but when Ichigo mentioned his name to me, I immediately saw the similarity. That's why I called you to progress in his sessions faster after that. I was hoping you could change that but it seems…  _hmm."_

"As I said, it was too late," the psychaitrist answered nonchalantly. "Worst case scenario, I can help him get away with an insanity plea."

"Just so that he will be sent to you and you can get all the information you want on these madmen?" Urahara said. "I know you can help them, but I also know you have a personal agenda, Aizen, which was one of the reasons for the screw up with that patient ten years ago." The psychiatrist didn't answer but Urahara could picture the man smiling at him, as always. He knew he'd hit a sore spot.

"Goodnight, captain," was all Aizen said before he hung up.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo was sitting at his concrete cell that was situated in a part of the police precinct, feeling miserable. It was a square, rather spacious one, with a concrete bed that had been made into a makeshift bed by adding a pillow and blanket for his stay that night. He was pissed off, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He glanced at the walk clock outside his cell and saw that it was ten at night. He came to work at ten in the morn, and had been interrogated for two hours. After that, he wwas promptly made to stay in the concrete prison. Had it been that long already?

The detective did have a feeling he had done something bad, so he must have. He probably did. And he'd be locked away with the rest of the criminal dogs. What a nightmare his life had become. He thought about his family, his mom. Flashbacks of an undesirable memory made him cringe, and Ichigo immediately shook his head, as if trying to clear it of his thoughts.

 _We needed it,_  the other one said, revealing itself after lurking in the recesses of Ichigo's mind. The young detective immediately slammed his fist into the wall beside him, feeling anger seeping in from some unknown source inside him.

"You," Ichigo hissed angrily at the voice. "You're the cause of all this aren't you?"

_As I said we needed it. And it was mercy killing. Nothing compared to a real murder._

'It's still murder!' Ichigo protested, keeping the conversation internal this time. 'Taking a life, we have no power to do that! Who do you think you are?'

_Shut up, Ichigo. If it were you who were stabbed, bleeding and dying slowly, the pain never ending, wouldn't you rather have somebody end it all? I did the guy a favor. And you loved it._

'I wasn't even aware of it!'

_Lies, aibou… We needed it anyway. If I didn't kill the guy, we would've killed a healthy, innocent one sooner or later._

'No, never,' Ichigo persisted. ' _You_ would, but not me.'

_Denial and repression has never been good for anyone…_

'Shut up,' Ichigo growled.

 _Ichigo,_  another voice said, this time lower and calmer than the other.  _We are who we are. We are part of you, no matter how much you deny it. And unfortunately, that is what has been done, is done. What he said is true. If he didn't do it at that time, you would have done something worse we know that you realize this as well._

Ichigo recognized the voice immediately, despite hardly hearing it. Zangetsu was always the calmer, the advisor. But his words… they sounded painful. He was given the truth that he really was what he had feared. Something bad. The feeling and realization sunk in, making Ichigo bring his knees to his chest, and resting his head on them and wishing to disappear. Why was he bad? He remembered the words the mugger spoke to him as he placed the knife that killed his mother in his tiny, young hand.

_You killed mommy._

_You're bad._

All he remembered was blood, but strangely he wasn't repulsed by it. He vaguely remembered his mother's blood soaked dress, and instead, found it almost comforting. It gave color to her dead, cold skin. Was it at that moment that he felt the need to see blood, to see others in it as well? His thoughts had become so tempting…

"Ichigo?" The detective looked up at the doorway outside his cell. Rukia was standing there looking worriedly at him. An officer had allowed her in, but she wasn't allowed to enter the barred cell, so she took a chair and sat in front of the bars.

"Rukia? What're you doing here?"

"Seeing you, idiot," she replied without heat. She seemed relieved that he appeared to be fine. "Did my brother abuse you in any way?"

"Not really, he's just being the usual cool stuck-up Byakuya," Ichigo said with a tired smirk. Rukia responded with a smile.

"I'm going to help you out of here."

"What? You're not gonna break me out of jail, are you?"

"No, silly, I'm going to get you out the proper way. By showing you have nothing to do with the Sexta."

"I think it's a little hard since I did have personal contact…" Rukia understood what he meant.

"But you're a victim, not a partner."

'If only that were true,' Ichigo thought to himself. "I don't know, Rukia. I'm just tired of all this."

"Hey! This isn't the Kurosaki Ichigo I know," Rukia chided, standing from her seat. She could be bossy and intimidating when she wanted to, but Ichigo knew that she was being like that out of concern. "I know you're good inside and you're a great detective. You've been putting away bad guys ever since young, when you helped your dad out with cases. That takes guts, work, determination and a lot of good. And I'm going to help free a good man who's been wronged from jail."

"Rukia!" Ichigo tried to reason with her.

"No, listen, Ichigo!" Rukia exclaimed. "Ichigo, I'm reminding you that I am one of the top and hand-picked detectives to join the team in catching the Sexta. Don't underestimate me."

"I'm… I'm not underestimating you Rukia," Ichigo said. "I just wanted to say thank you." Rukia smiled smugly.

"No problem," she grinned.

"Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course. I'll start from where you left off. I assume you have your stuff somewhere?"

"An external hard drive under the desktop. Seriously Rukia, be careful. This guy has a knack for showing up wherever I am, he might do the same for you," Ichigo warned.

"But I'm not you, he wouldn't be interested," Rukia smirked. Ichigo rolled his eyes but smiled anyway as the petite woman left the room.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Grimmjow was bored out of his mind. After the little incident with Kurosaki, he had calmed down and had fallen back to normal routine. He had heard that the police was excited with what they found from the latest victim.  _A partner,_  the media had said. They thought the Sexta had a partner, and Grimmjow only smiled at the ridiculous thought. Predators work alone. Kurosaki was still a young one. He just needed guidance. Perhaps sooner or later, he'd be doing it on his own, Grimmjow mused.

He brushed the thought away and wondered what he could do for the night since Edorad hadn't been bothering him either, and so he put on his cap and his hood, and went to his usual hang out by himself. If ever the need or urge arises, he'd do the usual.

The blue-haired man got himself a bottle of his favourite beer and seated himself in a corner, watching people as he always does. He wasn't addicted to alcohol nor did he smoke much, but it was just the beverage for him to take a break and just chill. Nothing much to it – he was just being a normal human, doing what normal humans do.

Grimmjow had anticipated that it would be a normal boring night, so he wasn't expecting to see someone he found vaguely familiar walking among the other patrons. She was tiny among the larger, foreign females who were drinking hard liquor and sported bright colored hair and eyes. Her hair was short, her eyes dark, and her frame small and almost fragile. She did however, seemed to possess a certain tenacity that reminded Grimmjow of the orange haired detective.

 _Ah_ , Grimmjow thought as he realized who she was.  _That woman detective working in the same team as Kurosaki._  He studied her further, examined her figure and wondered if she would be worth it, but after watching her movements, hearing her words as she talked to the yellow haired bartender with the big rack, she wasn't to his taste at all. She was worthless in his eyes; _weak._

He remembered, however, how close the two of them were and that immediately had him thinking. How interesting for a lion to have such a bond with a lamb. They could be close, but at one point or another, things could always go wrong between them. But Grimmjow didn't care for that. What he cared about was how Kurosaki would look if this woman was gone. He had never thought of such a thing, killing one to get a rise out of another. He never cared enough about any other person to actually do that, and now it certainly wasn't a bad time to try it out.

He began to feel excited again. Grimmjow could thank Kurosaki for this, always making him feel so thrilled. He wondered if he would be staring into golden eyes, void of empathy but full of burning hunger to seek prey, if Grimmjow did what he had in mind. The blue-haired man felt his lips form a smile and finished his bottle of booze and began to make his way out of the bar, where he would wait for the woman to come out.

The Sexta hoped the detective would enjoy his next surprise.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo spent the next day in the precinct, and Urahara brought him some clothes. His captain had also brought him out to eat, with the request of Urahara and permission of Byakuya. Besides, they had already searched his house and came up with nothing. They returned his belongings, and by right, they could let him go, but Ichigo just sat through the day in the precinct, to keep Byakuya happy and let Urahara watch over him. He'd go back to his apartment that night. He was waiting for Rukia anyway.

Ichigo returned to his desk, exhausted from his luck. Looking at the people around him, he wondered, as himself would he really be able to kill? Another part of him wanted to, but he felt no desire… or did he? Nothing excited him or caught his interest; nothing, except for the Sexta, who incited that other part of him. That night… all he could remember were the scent of alcohol, blood and the color blue.

He took out the Swiss knife that had been returned to him and flicked it open. He studied it carefully and noticed it was different. This was a knew knife, not his usual one. Where did the other one go…? Was it… the murder weapon that supposedly killed the last victim? The different cut was made by his own hands, wasn't it? He shivered at the thought of it, but his thoughts wandered to the Sexta.

When was he going to kill him? That was his plan wasn't it? If not, then what exactly is he to the serial killer? Ichigo sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling exhausted all over again. He checked under his desk and saw that his external harddrive was still there, but a note had been attached to it. It was from Rukia, telling him that she had gotten the info from him, thanked him and Ichigo hoped that wherever she was, looking for more clues, she was safe.

Or he could just call her.

He took out his cell and dialed her number. Rukia always had her phone with her and always picked up, so he wasn't expecting to get no told himself, she probably didn't hear her phone ringing, or that it was put on silent. Maybe she was just busy with whatever she was doing. Ichigo told himself that, but couldn't help worrying. While he was fidgeting at his desk, Ichigo noticed Renji exiting the investigation team's office and immediately called out to the redhead.

"Renji!"

"Oh, Ichigo…" Renji gave him a concerned look. "You okay? With the investigation and my captain…"

"I'm fine, and I kinda expected it anyway, with the rumors and stuff…" Ichigo shrugged. "I'm just looking for Rukia now. Have you seen her?"

"Rukia? I saw her this morning," Renji replied, scratching the back of his head and looking thoughtful. "She looked engrossed in something and kinda excited too, though she didn't say anything. I'm looking for her too, actually. We're supposed to go do some paperwork together."

"Oh," Ichigo merely said, and wondered what Rukia was excited about. Had she found something out? "I called her, but she didn't pick up."

"I called her earlier too… and there was no answer from her house either," Renji told him. The both of them fell into a short silence. "Do you know what she was up to?"

"Yeah, she was…"

"Kurosaki-san, Abarai-san," someone interrupted. Both detectives turned to see Urahara beckoning them to his office. They did, and Ichigo felt some sort of dread as he walked towards the captain, who had a grim expression on his face.

"What is it, Urahara-san?" Renji asked, trying to break the tension. He too sounded nervous, as if anticipating the bad captain closed the door behind them.

"I hope you guys will keep quiet, but," the captain paused, took a seat, and motioned them to do the same.

"What is it?" Ichigo asked impatiently, as he felt the other one's presence in the back of his head, moving around with interest. Urahara's face was expressionless as he replied.

"Someone found Kuchiki-san. She's been stabbed."


	13. Chapter 13

Ichigo paced about the corridor outside of Rukia's private ward. Urahara and Renji were there with him, while Byakuya was in the room with his sister. Ichigo didn't want to be in the room with the man at the moment, and nor did he, so Ichigo waited outside, occasionally glancing at the glass window to see the usually cold man watching his unconscious sister with gentle sad eyes. Ichigo himself couldn't bear to look at Rukia. She was pale and seemed almost lifeless, and her small body looked brittle. He recalled what Urahara had told him hours before, when he had called him and Renji into his office.

"Kuchiki-san's been stabbed," Urahara had said, and the very words echoed in his head. Hadn't he told her to be careful? That it was dangerous, and that she shouldn't have risked herself? She didn't believe that the Sexta would attack her, how ridiculous. Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, which was damp from sweat. No, no, it was all his fault.

_Sexta's playing games with us, aibou… This is for us._

'Shut up,' Ichigo warned. He was not in the mood for this.

"Kurosaki-san, it'd be nice if you sit down. You're not just making yourself even nervous by pacing about, but us as well," Urahara told him gently. Ichigo gave him an apologetic smile and sat down on the bench beside Renji, who had never looked more worried. This was all his fault, Ichigo thought.  _Our fault._

The doctor had reported to them upon their arrival that she had suffered multiple vicious stab wounds and though they were damaging, they avoided hitting vital organs. It seemed too careful, that even the doctor thought the stabber deliberately avoided killing her even though the attack appeared brutal. Rukia had a lost a lot of blood, barely enough to keep her alive, and she had hit her head – now she was currently in a coma. The doctors had assured to the team that she would live nevertheless, as they had stabilized her. All they had to do at the moment was wait for her to wake up.

Time… Ichigo could never trust time. He'd lost too much, and it escapes from him without him knowing. There was just no time, Ichigo thought anxiously. He needed to take down the Sexta before anyone else could get hurt.

"It's not the Sexta, is it?" Renji suddenly asked, his voice shaky. Ichigo looked at him as if he had grown mushrooms out of his ears. "I mean, it's not in his MO to attack women. And I mean, he's never let anyone live after he'd attack them before?"

"He's doing this to me, I know he is," Ichigo muttered, but both Urahara and Renji could hear it, and they glanced at each other nervously.

"We don't know that," Urahara said. Ichigo gave him a humorless laugh.

"What, some other crazy guy stabbed her half to death and placed her nicely for someone to find her for the fun of it?"

" _Ichigo_ ," Renji said, finding his sarcasm offensive, especially since they were there visiting Rukia. Ichigo shook his head and kept mum after that.

The silence hung over them for the rest of the fifteen minutes until Byakuya finally came out of Rukia's private ward. He gave them a sideway glance as the three of them entered but did not utter a word. He left the place as quietly as he had arrived. Urahara took the first chair beside Rukia's bed while Ichigo took the other. Renji chose to stand. Yumichika and Ikkaku arrived a little later to visit their colleague, and the whole team just lingered quietly, spoke softly to one another as they prayed for Rukia's recovery.

After they left the hospital, Yumichika and Ikkaku approached Ichigo, with Renji still at his side.

"Ichigo, just so you know we're still in your side even if people's talking shit about you," Ikkaku started, earning a smirk from Ichigo. Yumichika shrugged.

"We know you don't involve yourself with anyone who'd hurt Kuchiki. You two are like siblings," the effeminate man said.

"That's why we're gonna bring you back into the team unofficially," Ikkaku continued. "We investigate, you lead. Seems like they found some scribbled notes about the Sexta on Kuchiki, and we heard from Renji that you got the closest info to the Sexta out there."

"And we're not going to ask you how you get it, as long as we get this bastard who dares to touch one of our own," Yumichika told him with a light, confident smile.

"Don't say no, Ichigo. You know you need our help," Ikkaku added with a grin, his bald head almost shining. Ichigo returned the grin and looked at Renji who seemed as pleased by the offer.

"Right, thank you," Ichigo replied sheepishly. "We'll take him down."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The reformed investigation team almost immediately went back to work, with Rukia's state being their motivation to find the serial killer. It was quiet in the team's office; all were engrossed in their own work. Ichigo had filled them in with what he and Rukia had discovered, and though Yumichika still seemed a little sceptical about Ichigo's gut feeling towards the blue haired man and his meetings, the rest of them had decided to believe in him. After all, he seemed to know what seems to be going on the most. They looked through what the team had gotten so far.

Cold cases that bore some sort of resemblance to the Sexta's MO had been sorted on Rukia's desk, along with missing cases files that were suspected to be victims of the Sexta as well. Ichigo had gone through them, and saw that it was quite likely they were. They fit the Sexta's taste, though the older files, which seemed to date back as long as ten years ago, included females or people not likely for the killer to have chosen. Perhaps he was developing his taste over time.

Ichigo counted the number of files. There were probably more than twenty.

Quite shocked by the number, Ichigo shook his head and ignored the soft gleeful voice in the back of his head, and went back to look through the list of witnesses and suspects. He came back to Edorad, the man whom Ichigo believed to be friends with Grimmjow – the Sexta. He hadn't seen anyone with the Sexta, nor have he heard any more connections to the alias 'Nikolai Grimshaw'. Even Tessai, the Nikolai's boss did not know much about him, and the address given to him under the alias name was also false. The Sexta seemed to know how to hide.

Ichigo looked at Edorad's address and immediately recognized it as a part of town most people avoid going to. It wasn't unsafe, but it just seemed intimidating, like the residents, who were mostly large foreigners with a liking for odd clothes and loud activities. But the police do know that most underground activities operate in the area as well.

"Is that the guy ya said you saw talking to your suspect?" Ikkaku said from behind him. A little startled, Ichigo moved to the side, where he saw Ikkaku leaning over where he had just been and reading the file on Edorad. The bald man continued, "He looks familiar." He paused and frowned as he thought hard. "Ah, I think he was with Nnoitora a couple of times."

"Nnoitora?" Ichigo had heard of the name before. "You mean the..."

"Drug dealer who can rival Captain Kenpachi, yeah," Ikkaku said. "And you say that blue guy knows this Edorad guy. I reckon that lanky bastard might know him. The foreigners are pretty tight with connections."

"Ah, yeah," Ichigo muttered. He'd heard about Nnoitora Gilga before. He was a notorious dealer who didn't just deal, but can fight too. Police couldn't touch him, most probably since Kenpachi seemed bias towards him, having formed some sort of twisted truce, just because said Captain enjoyed the fight they had during a drug bust. And Kenpachi was one of the two captains who were in charge of looking over Las Noches too; him, and Byakuya.

"We're going to see that ugly man?" Yumichika asked with a slight grimace. Renji shrugged.

"I guess I've seen a couple of strange guys from that area too," the red haired detective added. "What about you, Ichigo?"

"I'll probably question this Edorad again and then check out the area."

"Seems like we know where we're heading next," Ikkaku said with a smirk.

Three of them headed to the shadier area of Karakura, where most foreigners resided and renamed the area as 'Las Noches', meaning 'The Nights', as the area was dark no matter what time of the day it was. Yumichika had chosen to stay behind, not at all keen in visiting the 'uglier' part of town and would continue the paperwork and research for them instead. Ikkaku and Renji went on to look for the drug dealer, while Ichigo went to Edorad's apartment. Nobody answered the door, so Ichigo decided the man wasn't in, and went on to explore the neighbourhood which he had never stepped foot into. Or had he?

 _Looks familiar doesn't it?_ The other one said as Ichigo studied the buildings they passed by.

Ichigo immediately felt the sense of recognition when he glanced at the alleys. The sky overhead was dark, and Ichigo thought he saw a glimpse of the moon behind a cloud. Wasn't it too early for the moon to be up? Perhaps that was why the place was named as it was. The moon looked strangely familiar as well, but Ichigo could not remember anything particular and shrugged it off. The detective walked along the walkway, passing by a couple of foreigners who did not give him a second look. He felt at ease in the area; nobody looked at him differently for his hair or his scowl. He tucked his hands into his coat and kept on walking.

Ichigo walked until he found himself stopping in front of a pawnshop. The shop's name was strange: 'Visored', and its logo was of an odd mask instead of the usual circled digit seven for a pawnshop. For some reason it appealed to him, even though Ichigo had never fancied such things. He stepped into the shop anyway, and the place was covered in several objects, from electronics to artefacts, while the counter held pawned jewellery and other second hand valuables. Ichigo browsed through but nothing called out to him.

"Eh? Did I just hear a customer?" a male voice came from the back of the shop. A blonde skinny man with a straight bob appeared from the back room, donning a trendy long sleeved shirt and tie, with grey slim pants. He looked almost too fashionable for a shabby place like that.

"Uh, I was just browsing..."

"Ah, everyone's always browsing," the shopkeeper shrugged, but took a seat behind the counter and watched Ichigo look around. After a moment's silence he asked, "What's a cop doing in a place like Las Noches?"

"Why do you think I'm a cop?"

"Yer father's famous remember? Kurosaki-san?" the blonde man grinned like a Cheshire cat. "But I don't care about that, I'm interested to know if you're investigating the Sexta case."

"What's it to you?" Ichigo replied apprehensively.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," the man waved his arms. "Name's Hirako Shinji, owner of Visored pawnshop and concerned resident of Las Noches who just wants to see a serial murderer get thrown behind bars." Ichigo narrowed his eyes at him. Though the man spoke casually and in a friendly manner, he was somehow suspicious. Are all Las Noches residents like that?

"You don't look like a Las Noches resident," Ichigo said frankly. He thought only foreigners resided in that area.

"Ah, mixed blood. My pop's a Karakura local. Got my hair from my ma," the blonde man grinned as he twirled a loose strand of his blonde hair playfully to show his point.

"Well, we're closing in on the Sexta," Ichigo said, he himself unsure whether it was true or not. "And since you're so concerned, do you think you have any information we need that can help us catch the guy?"

"I don't know~" the broker who called himself Hirako Shinji replied. "All I know from the news is that the guy's probably one of Las Noches' residents, a guy who gets off from fighting other guys and slaughters them like pigs. I'm sure I have a couple of friends like that." Ichigo rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, but then spotted a knife at the corner of the display counter. He moved towards it, and Hirako the pawnbroker noticed the detective eyeing the knife, spoke up. "What kinda knife do ya think the Sexta's using?"

Ichigo looked up at the blonde man. "You sell knives?"

"More for collectors than for literal use, really," Hirako said quickly. "But I suppose I can't say what my customers do to their stuff once they buy it." Ichigo nodded slightly.

"Do you have combat knives?"

"Military combat knives? No, they're illegal aren't they? My dad used to trade and sell 'em though, but that was looong ago," Hirako said, leaning back in his chair.

"Did you tend to the shop back then as well?"

"Yeah, once in a while... Don't think I remember sellin' anyone knives though. Maybe my pop might know, but unfortunately he's already six feet under," the pawnbroker shrugged, making Ichigo frown at his indifference.

"What about unusual characters?" Hirako grinned.

"We're all unusual. You're unusual too," Hirako said, but when he saw that Ichigo was not amused, his grin faded into an annoyed pout. "Well I guess there's this one guy. Really quiet, doesn't make a sound. Didn't even notice him enter the shop."

"When was that?"

"Long time ago. When my pops was still managin' the shop... Almost a decade ago I think?" Hirako asked himself.

 _A decade,_ Ichigo thought. Around the time the two girls were murdered. "What did he look like?"

"No idea. A cap and a hoodie. Some antsy-lookin' teen," Hirako replied. Ichigo was hoping for more, and waited patiently for the pawnbroker to recall the memory. "Oh, and somethin' ta do with the colour blue."  _Jackpot._

"You think he lives around here?" Ichigo continued asking, restraining his excitement.

"Dunno. Only saw 'im once. People come and go, sometimes they stay, sometimes they go back to the country they came from," Hirako sighed, seemingly losing interest in answering questions. "Most likely they stay here though. Las Noches seem to have the ability ta chain us residents down."

"Well, great," Ichigo said, quite losing focus in what the other man was saying once he had heard what he wanted to hear. "Thank you very much Hirako Shinji-san."

"Go get 'im, detective," the blonde man grinned as Ichigo exited the shop and whipped out his cell phone. He was about to call Renji, when the phone rang instead, the screen lighting up showing Renji's name on it.

"Renji?"

"Yo Ichigo, we got Nnoitora here," the red haired detective said from the other line. He gave Ichigo their location, and Ichigo promptly followed it, finding himself in an apartment of a rather dilapidated building which was about three blocks away from the pawnshop.

"This is Nnoitora?" Ichigo asked the moment he laid eyes on the unusually tall man who had a wide creepy grin. He had an eye patch over his right eye which reminded him of Kenpachi. Ikkaku had his gun pointed to Nnoitora's head, but the tall man seemed completely relaxed, leaning back on the old couch. If Ichigo didn't know who they were, he might have thought the two of them were pretty friendly with each other. Probably something to do with Kenpachi again, Ichigo thought. Renji meanwhile was sitting on a chair that sat in the middle of the empty room; there were only the couch, the chair, a small TV at the corner and a torn rug by the wall with the broken window that decorated the apartment.

The lanky man gave a low whistle at the sight of Ichigo, "So this is the celebrity detective eh? Though from what I heard, you partnered with the Sexta?" He gave a harsh cackle and Ikkaku smacked him a bit with his pistol, shutting him up though he snarled threateningly at him. Ikkaku was unfazed. It seemed that the gun was really just for show or smacking, since the bald detective hated guns and have always preferred a melee weapon instead.

"That's just a rumour," Ikkaku grumbled. "Where'd you hear it anyway? It wasn't out on the press."

"I have my means," Nnoitora replied with his usual grin. "So what's all this about? I know it ain't about drugs or my dealin'."

"The Sexta," Ikkaku simply said.

"You think I have something to do with a psycho?"

"You look like you have connections with a lot of people," Renji said. "Or at least what you do makes it look like it." Nnoitora snorted.

"Ya thought right," the tall man muttered. "But doesn't mean I know 'em personally."

"Do you know a man named Edorad?" Ikkaku asked.

"Who?"

"Don't lie, we've seen him with ya a couple of times," Ikkaku warned.

"Tall, big, burly, with half of his red hair shaved. A deliveryman," Ichigo described to the dealer.

"Oh that Edorad," Nnoitora said. "Yeah, well what abouthim?"

"You use him for deliveries for the stuff as well don't you?" Ikkaku questioned. The other man shrugged his shoulders but it was clear that it was a yes. "Do you use other deliverymen from the same company to deliver stuff?"

"Not really. Only those I trust or see that they do their job good enough," Nnoitora replied.

"So who are they?"

"I don't know them personally, and it's just a couple of them, mostly that big guy and some other moody-lookin' one," Nnoitora said. The detectives looked at each other.

"Tell us about the other one," Ikkaku demanded.

"I don't know, he's either quiet or snappy, and always sticks in the darker areas with his hoodie or cap on," Nnoitora told them.

"You think he's a resident of Las Noches?"

"He looks foreign, since he got blue eyes. Most likely is. Never seen a full Japanese reside in Las Noches, nor heard of a foreigner livin' outside of it," Nnoitora said. "Even when we first came ta Karakura, our first instinct was to go to Las Noches and we stick here."

 _Instinct,_  Ichigo thought fleetingly.

After the little questioning they felt like they had at least taken a step forward. Ichigo had considered getting Nnoitora's help in cornering the blue eyed man whom he believed to be the Sexta, otherwise 'Grimmjow', but once again, he had no solid reason to. And it was unlikely a drug dealer like Nnoitora would actually cooperate with the police. They didn't get much information from their visit to that part of town, but what Ichigo had learned from Nnoitora and that Hirako Shinji of the pawnshop, Grimmjow had at least lived in the area at one point of his life, or been familiar with the place, for him to be seen around there a decade ago.

When the team got back to the precinct, Ichigo immediately brought out the map of Karakura which they had used to pinpoint locations of the found victims. Ichigo marked known locations he thought relevant to the case: Tessai's Delivery Service office, the questioned witnesses who were regulars of 'Nikolai Grimshaw', the pawnshop in which he had looked up the address for, Edorad's address, and the locations of where the cold case victims, whom they were positive to be the Sexta's old kills, were found. The rest of the team watched quietly.

Once Ichigo was done, they immediately saw that the markings of residences, bars and victim locations were spread throughout Karakura. The regulars and bars were not inside Las Noches itself, but they were located in such a way that they were quite near alleyways and dark, narrow streets.

"This is how the Sexta went around unnoticed, not by people, regulars, anyone," Ichigo said. "The alleys. Nobody likes using the alleys! They could care less if something died and rot in there!"

"Still, we don't know who or where he is," Yumichika reminded Ichigo.

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, suddenly feeling low. "I know."

"We just gotta keep looking, yeah?" Renji sighed, returning to his desk. Ichigo nodded in agreement, and the rest of the team went back to their desks to continue investigating. Ichigo thought the team looked defeated but it was still too early to give up; it had not even been a day since Rukia's attack, even if they've been going relentlessly at the same investigation for almost three months now. They had to avenge Rukia, and stop the Sexta from taking any more lives.

Ichigo got up and headed for the washroom. He needed to freshen up; his eyes were getting heavy. It was already quite late at night, so there weren't many people in the precinct, much less in the washroom, so Ichigo found himself alone and staring at the mirror.

'Why did Las Noches seem so familiar?' Ichigo asked himself.

_Keep asking yourself that, aibou. You'll learn soon._

Ichigo growled under his breath at the unwelcomed voice. Then his cell phone rang.

"Hello? This is..."

"How was the surprise?" Ichigo's eyes widened and grit his teeth at the voice that came through.

"You _son of a bitch_ ," Ichigo managed to grind out. "How  _dare_ you fucking call me!"

"Don't be stupid, Kurosaki. You're a lion, and she's a lamb, remember that," Grimmjow sneered. "Sooner or later you could've done the job yourself. I'm doing you the favour."

"Fuck you, I'm not like you. Stop comparing yourself to me!" Ichigo almost yelled into the phone. Grimmjow laughed harshly in Ichigo's ear.

"You'll see how right I am,  _Detective_ ," the other man snarled and the line went dead.

Ichigo repressed the urge to throw his cell phone away, feeling almost violated by the sound of the man's voice in his ear. Violated, but still deeply aroused,  _thrilled_  by the insanity that the man's words had. He returned to the office silently, uncharacteristically, that Renji prompted him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Ichigo lied. "I need to get home to grab some stuff."

"Alright," Renji said though he was giving Ichigo the same reproachful look as Rukia usually did when she knows he's lying. "Call us if there's anything." Ichigo nodded in response, and was out the door before any of them could say any more.

Ichigo walked home like he always did. The Police precinct wasn't too far from his apartment, being only a fifteen minute walk away. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and walked sullenly in the night. It was getting unusually cold, but the other people whom he walked by did not seem to mind it. Maybe it was just him.

He kept his eyes on the pavement as he walked, his mind stuck on Grimmjow's call earlier. The man... was influential. He could break down just from the sound of his voice. That man was dangerous. Not just to other people or those whom he called 'lambs', but to him as well. Even the man's presence was stifling, while his unnaturally blue eyes were almost intoxicating to Ichigo in some sick twisted way. Ichigo gave a shuddering sigh as the temperature seemed to drop again and he walked faster. Ichigo only caught a glimpse of someone's shadow before he knocked right into the person.

"Ow!" a high female voice moaned. Ichigo blinked and quickly straightened himself up to look at the person he had bumped into. The first thing he saw was long, flowing green hair. "Please watch where you're going!"

"Aren't you... Neliel-san?" Ichigo asked. The woman with the long green hair stared at him before she broke into a grin.

"Ah! You must be Detective Kurosaki Itsugo!" she chirped happily. Ichigo muttered a correction of the pronunciation of his name but was too taken aback by her almost childish mannerism to really be bothered. "I haven't seen you around Dr Aizen's office for a while!"

"Ah, yes," Ichigo admitted. "Was busy with something."

"Come, let's go have coffee! I've been wanting to have a talk with you," Neliel said with a gentle smile on her face. Ichigo couldn't say no.

They settled at a nearby cafe, where Neliel insisted she paid for his coffee. Ichigo reluctantly agreed. They began to talk, giving simple introductions, like how Ichigo started off as a detective while Neliel was currently studying and having a side job as a model. Then it came to the point where they met, through Aizen.

"So... if you don't mind me asking, why are you seeing Aizen?" Ichigo asked cautiously. The woman gave him a small smile.

"I was involved in a gang," she said and Ichigo looked at her disbelievingly. "I got into a lot of fights, trouble, you name it. And then one day it got pretty bad... I was almost killed. Hit my head pretty hard, got into a coma for a couple of years, and well, that's why I'm still studying, trying to catch up and make up for the lost years."

"And Aizen?"

"Well, while I was out, they collected info on my crimes, so I got charged. I'm sort of under probation now?" she gave a sad chuckle. "But I'm seeing Dr Aizen for therapy, to get my memories back and help out with the headaches and black outs that I sometimes have."

"I see... I'm sorry," Ichigo said. Neliel gave a hearty giggle.

"What are you talking about? It's perfectly fine! My life's never been better!" she told him, and Ichigo found it hard not to believe her when she was smiling so earnestly. "What about you?"

"Oh," Ichigo wasn't expecting to have the question turned to him so soon. "Uh, I have... some problems of my own too."

"Ah, well I can see you're not comfortable with it. It's okay," Neliel said gently and Ichigo was grateful for her understanding. "But you seem to be troubled by something. Is it about the case you're working on? This Sexta case?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"It's really horrible. Even though I've been in trouble and seen enough blood in my life, I can never think of how horrible people can be," she continued with a frown.

"Well that's my job, catching these sickos," Ichigo muttered tiredly.

"Any leads or clues? Maybe I can help out?" Neliel asked with almost child-like curiosity.

"I'm not sure..." Ichigo said but thought, what the heck. "We kinda know where he's from, but we can't track who he is exactly. I mean, I got his name, but I don't know how to spell it. Found his alias, but it doesn't register. Tried 'Nikolai', 'Grimshaw' or that 'Grimmjow' he told me his name was..." Ichigo realized he was mumbling to himself rather than to Neliel, but the woman seemed to be listening.

"Wait, wait," Neliel interjected suddenly. "Did you say 'Grimmjow'?"

"Yes, you know him?" Ichigo asked quickly.

"Yeah he was a friend, sort of. But why would he be involved in this?"

"He's a suspect – unofficially. But he's the only lead I have to the Sexta."

"A  _suspect_? Itsugo, are you well?" Ichigo frowned at her question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Grimmjow's dead for almost ten years!"


	14. Chapter 14

"Did you just say 'Grimmjow's dead'?" Ichigo asked. "...'For ten years'?" Neliel looked at him with a concerned expression that said 'oh you poor mentally retarded man'.

"Yes." Ichigo began to laugh, though he didn't know why.

"Can… can you describe to me this Grimmjow that you know?" Ichigo asked again, still disbelieving. The woman frowned a little, but answered anyway.

"Tall, always grumpy looking, and has bright blue hair and eyes. He's one of a kind, in both looks and name," she said. Ichigo's brows furrowed at the news brought to him. She got that last bit right.

"But that can't be, I've been in contact with him, seen him in person," Ichigo insisted. Neliel's eyes searched his face and Ichigo knew she was trying to gauge whether he was lying or confused, or whatever she thought he was.

"…So it's the same Grimmjow?" she asked almost meekly.

"Yeah. Blue eyes and hair." Neliel lowered her eyes this time, and Ichigo felt that there was something about it. "Neliel-san-"

"Nel is fine," she interrupted.

"-Nel, what happened for you to think he's dead?"

"I don't  _think_  he's dead, he's  _reported_  dead," she said.

"And this was ten years ago?" Ichigo just couldn't believe it. "How… how did he die?" Neliel shrugged in answer, her eyes still not meeting his. She looked upset, almost pained though.

"They said suicide." Ichigo frowned as he imagined the blue-haired killer committing suicide. It was highly unlikely. But it was ten years ago… "Nel, what's your relationship to him?" The green-haired woman finally turned to face him and with a small smile she replied.

"It was a one-sided friendship." Ichigo opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by her again, "Here I'll write down the spelling of his name." Ichigo's thought was cleared and triumph took over.  _Finally,_  he was going to get the Sexta's name. Neliel scribbled it down on her napkin and passed it to him.

"Grimmjow… That's how you spell Jaegerjaquez? I would've never been able to figure that out," Ichigo stared at the spelling. Neliel looked amused.

"I…. hope you catch him, Itsugo," she said sadly. "He needs the help."

Ichigo moved in his seat, watching her distressed look. "I thought you said he's dead?"

"I don't know… He doesn't seem the type to  _stay_ dead."

"What do you mean?" Ichigo asked again, but she shrugged and refused to say anymore. After a moment of awkward silence and a sip of coffee, Ichigo tried another direction. "Do you mind telling me how he ended up under Aizen?" Neliel looked at him strangely. She took a sip of her coffee in a graceful lady-like manner, her demeanour changing.

"He didn't tell me, but I knew it was bad," she began. "I could see it in his eyes. He was… different. He looked angry all the time, yes, but that wasn't it." She looked back at him and gave another strange look, and he knew what she was about to say. "Very much like you. But… you have gentle warm eyes, sometimes. Grimmjow… his eyes were all cold, and the way he looked at people, at  _me_  was just... different."

"Has he ever hurt you?"

"No. I could tell he tolerated me. But he never did anything. But he loathed Dr Aizen a lot. Every time Grimmjow looked at him, his usual look was amplified by deep hate. I would've thought he'd have attacked the doctor any moment."

"How long had he been under him, did you know?"

"Oh, I've been under counselling with Dr Aizen for so long… Grimmjow came in a year or two after I did. I think… he went through Aizen for almost two years before they reported him dead."

"Why did he hate Aizen so much?"

"Why do  _you_  hate Dr Aizen so much?" Ichigo didn't expect her to reflect the question to him. "You looked at Dr Aizen the same way as he did… Maybe you both shared the same views."

"That's not funny, Nel…"

"I'm not joking," she said with a straight face. Ichigo's nervous smile wiped off completely.

"Anything else you know about him that might help me?"

"Don't think so," Neliel shrugged. "He always kept to himself, even though he's quite charismatic. There's just something about him that makes him attractive but it could just be his looks..." Her expression softened again when she looked at ichigo in the eye. "Itsugo, just be careful, alright?"

Ichigo forced a smile and nodded, the news of the Sexta supposed to be dead still not yet sunk in. "...Yeah."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo went to check up the acquired name through the database, and did find a file on 'Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez'. He was classified as deceased, but they kept his records, strangely. It was a cold case file. Renji saw him at his desk, and called out to him.

"Ichigo? You got what you left at home?"

"Hm? Yeah," Ichigo replied without really listening. He was busy looking at his computer screen.

"What're you looking at?" Renji peered over Ichigo to look at the monitor. "A new victim?"

"Suspect," Ichigo corrected. Renji looked at the screen properly.

"But he's deceased…"

"It's him, the photograph shows the same guy. Younger then of course," Ichigo continued.

"But I don't see how a dead…"

"He probably faked his death or something," Ichigo cut in, sounding annoyed. "Because it's the exact same guy I saw, talked to even."

"Alright..." Renji sounded tired and Ichigo felt almost guilty for snapping at him. "Since they still have the name in the database, they might have kept some files in the archives."

"You think I can go get it?"

"'We', Ichigo. Remember we're a team," Renji reminded him. "And I'll go get the files. You're not supposed to be working on this..."

"Thanks, Renji," Ichigo said, and watched as the red-haired man exited the office. In the meantime Ichigo looked over the records again. The man – or boy back then, was still attending high school – a mere 16 years of age. He was still a minor and yet...

It wasn't long before he returned, with a box of files in it. Ichigo felt a sort of excitement rise in him, wanting to learn more about this Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez who was supposed to be dead. Renji sat with him as Ichigo took out the papers and folders; Yumichika and Ikkaku had gone back home, their work shift over and wanted to catch up on much needed sleep. Ichigo had suggested Renji did the same.

"No, I want to catch this guy as much as you do. He hurt one of us. That's unforgivable," Renji said seriously. The younger man managed a smile and nodded, understanding his need. Rukia is an especially close friend to all of them after all.

"If you say so..." Ichigo's eyes looked back down to the files and skimmed through the information:

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was an immigrant, and has lived in Las Noches since he was six. He had a juvenile record for assault once, but other than that, he was clean. He was also charged with the possession of a weapon – a military combat knife. Ichigo's eyes widened. It wasn't the same KABAR combat knife that the Sexta used currently, but the fact that it was a combat knife anyway ties the 'dead' Grimmjow with the current one.

Ichigo read on, and looked through the files – they were basically background information: His father was deceased when he just go out of elementary school, and it appeared that he survived on his own ever since his teens. There were some testimonials even. Most of them just said that he kept to himself and was rude, but kept up his slightly above average grades, and that was all. It also appeared that he had a part-time job as a freelance courier as well ever since his father's passing.

Was that it? Was that how he knew his way around Karakura? Having explored and took all kinds of paths under the cover of his job as a courier, in order to know the best shortcuts and what not? No wonder he seemed to be able to use the complex network of alleys in the town. Probably no one else would take the time to explore the dark, scary alleyways that seemed to be no more innocent than a death trap.

Ichigo flipped through the files again and came across the death certificate. He looked at it properly, hoping to see any signs that it was forged, but it looked legit to him. Then he looked at the cause of death: substance abuse. The Sexta and drug abuse? That seemed so unlikely. He hardly even looked like an alcoholic, much less a drug abuser.

"What's wrong?" Renji asked.

"I'm just... hold up," Ichigo replied as he went on to read the report.

Apparently it was Dr Aizen Sousuke himself who found the teenage Grimmjow unconscious, with a bottle of pills by his side. An ambulance was called in, arriving fifteen minutes later and the EMTs checked for his pulse. They reported him 'Dead on Arrival'.

"Renji... "

"What?"

"Is it possible for people to have no pulse for a long period of time and then come back to life later?"

"Why?"

"It can't be his twin... That'd just be so cheesy..."

"Ichigo? What are you talking about?"

"This Grimmjow. It's really him. It can't be anyone else."

"I've heard of some cases but that's just too rare... almost supernatural, even."

"..." Ichigo kept silent and looked through the papers again. "Hey... Renji look!"

"What?"

"Urahara's name on it!" Ichigo pointed to papers. Renji quickly looked at it. Indeed, there it was, written on the top of the report: 'Head Investigator Urahara Kisuke'.

Ichigo took a good look at the report. This Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was a suspect in the murders of the two girls and Luppi Antenor, but because he was a minor his name was kept quiet. They had no solid leads on Grimmjow, other than having him being last seen with the victims before they died, and he had a combat knife in possession but did not match the murder weapon. His records were clean except for a juvenile assault in school. Pretty much, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez appeared to be a normal kid with bright blue hair.

"So... what does this mean?" Renji asked.

"This means Urahara-san might know something about this. He's been acting strange lately... he's definitely hiding something," Ichigo replied, putting the papers down but taking out a notepad and copying the address.

"What're you doing?"

"Copying down the address."

"But the guy's dead, there should be a new tenant..."

"I'm just gonna make sure. It may be a lead, I don't care," Ichigo snapped, and Renji went silent. The orange haired man sighed and faced his friend. "I'm sorry. I just... want you to go get some sleep, alright? I can handle this. It's just going to some dead guy's house. The most I get are a few scares."

"I hope so," Renji muttered. "Just make sure you answer your cell if anyone calls. If you don't pick up, I'm going to send a search team for you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ichigo walked down the dim lit street of Las Noches, staring at the written address on his notepad. The place still gave him some kind of vibe. It was strangely silent but Ichigo was comfortable in it, and just like its name, that part of town remained dark and dreary despite it being the day.

The young detective stopped in front of an old apartment building, its paint peeling from the eroding walls to reveal strangely white cement. Ichigo entered the building and climbed up the steps to the fourth floor, walking straight to the end of the corridor, where the apartment door number 406 was. Ichigo knocked on it softly, a little nervous as he stared at the slightly rusted door number by the door frame. When he received no answer, he knocked once again, louder this time.

He was just about to knock again when the door opened slightly just a crack, where a person with unnaturally pale skin, black hair and large green eyes looked at him. Ichigo cleared his throat, trying not to get chills from the person.

"...Yes?" the person asked, voice masculine and strong despite his appearance.

"Hi, I just want to ask some questions... about your apartment."

"What for?" was the curt reply. The man just stared at him, his facial expression unchanging.

"Just some questions... I won't take too much of your time." Ichigo tried not to show the fact that he was a detective, though he felt the man probably recognized him, like seemingly every other person in Las Noches.

"You may ask," the green-eyed tenant said.

"Well... uh, how long have you stayed here?" Ichigo began.

"Almost five years."

"Do you know about the previous tenant?"

"It was empty before I took it, but I heard someone committed suicide in the apartment prior to that. That is all."

"Right... so the place was cleared out before you came in?"

"Yes."

"Nothing left whatsoever?"

"None."

Ichigo sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Right... that's all. Thanks."

The green-eyed man gave him a slight nod and shut the door. Ichigo shook his head in frustration and leaned against the wall. Nothing. It was a dead end for him.

What now? Was that the end? Ichigo didn't know what else he could follow. He thought it over and remembered Nell and her link to the Sexta. She seemed to firmly believe that the man was dead. The reports did state it, but... Ichigo decided to follow that lead. He'd have to go to Aizen. He knew there was something wrong with the man. And this was definitely it. There was also Urahara, his own captain, who was the head investigator of the case that involved Grimmjow's suspected murders. He'd have to learn more from him, get answers. If Urahara didn't have them, then Aizen would.

Ichigo returned to the police precinct, hoping Urahara was back in his office. It was still quite early in the evening, so he should be there. Ichigo hoped he was. As he neared the captain's office, Ichigo felt his heart thumping. Would he be getting all the answers he wanted here? Urahara did know something, he'd seen it with his eyes. Ichigo would get it from him.

The young detective gave a nervous knock to the door.  _Please be here._

"Come in," he heard Urahara's voice said. Ichigo entered, feeling more nervous for some reason. He never really enjoyed confrontations.

"Hello, Kurosaki-san," the captain greeted with his usual smile. "What brings you here today?"

"Urahara-san," Ichigo began, scratching the back of his head. "I want to know about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." The moment he mentioned the name, Ichigo noticed a slight drop to the captain's smile.

"You have a name to the blue-haired man you were talking about?"

"He was your suspect too, Urahara-san. I saw the files." Urahara's smile vanished completely. He looked down before he looked back up at Ichigo.

"Sit down, Kurosaki-san." Ichigo did, the nervous feeling building up again. He waited patiently for Urahara to continue.

"You are talking about Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez from ten years ago?" Ichigo nodded. The captain paused and scratched his head before he continued. "He was only fifteen when I noticed him. He was clean, normal, even though he kept to himself most of the time. But he had something different in his eyes. I noticed his lack of emotion other than anger, though he knew how to control it, asides from that assault in school. His profile fit the murder, and of course... the knife. He had it too. It didn't match with some of the murders, and police just couldn't picture a kid that young to do such things, so they never really investigated properly."

"So it really is him? But it was reported that he's deceased. It's not true is it? It's the same guy, I swear..."

"I don't know, Kurosaki-san. Yes, he is – or was – deceased. I was there when they found him. And I was also the one who managed to detain him and sent him to Aizen."

"You detained him...? How?"

"The assault at school and possessing the combat knife. He didn't use it but the assault was pretty vicious. He was seen as a threat, and had to go counselling. Since Aizen was a doctor who helped with the profiling back then and had worked with dangerous criminals, I thought he'd help, but... Unfortunately he didn't."

"Was that why you sent me to him too?" Ichigo asked, looking at Urahara in the eye. "Do you think I'm dangerous?"

"I admit, I fear that you can be more dangerous if left alone. I had hoped Aizen would be of help, but it seems like I've made the same mistake twice."

"What do you mean by that?" Ichigo asked again, frowning. Did Urahara mean Aizen had made him worse instead.

"I don't know myself... I apologize, Kurosaki-san. I'd like you to just stop the investigation, forget about this whole matter. Stay at home. Don't even see Aizen, is that clear?"

"What? You want me to stop after all I've been through? I'm this close to getting the Sexta! He knows where I am, he knows  _who_ I am. And he almost killed Rukia. I'm not going to sit down like the good boy you always thought I was."

"I don't mean to offend you, Kurosaki-san, I just don't want any more casualties..."

"Enough!" Ichigo yelled, feeling both faint and angered at the same time as he stood up.

"Kurosaki-san, don't make me put you under house arrest," Urahara warned. Ichigo looked at him without a word, before leaving the office quietly. "Kurosaki-san! Ichigo!"

Ichigo shuffled away quickly, his next destination was Aizen's. Nobody might know where the Sexta or Grimmjow is, but bit by bit, he'd get the clues. He'll catch the bastard. He'll get him for sure. Clenching his fists, Ichigo shoved them in his pockets and headed briskly to Aizen's office building.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Grimmjow poured some water in a dish and set it out at the corner of his kitchen floor. He walked over to his freezer and opened it, picking up some red meat and sliced them, heating them up in a frying pan before dumping it to a plate. He placed the plate onto the dining table and sat, eating the barely cooked meat quickly. His blue eyes glanced at the time and dumped the empty yet slightly bloodied plate into the sink, and grabbed his jacket.

It was dusk, his favourite time to stalk prey. He felt this night was different, but decided to just keep his eyes open. Maybe he'd see the detective again? It had been a while since he saw him and was already almost missing the bright orange hair, the liquid brown eyes and the golden gleam hidden in them. He toyed with the handle of his sheathed military knife in his pocket as he walked, glancing at the old yet white washed buildings of Las Noches, eying the ever-dark sky. He spotted the crescent moon at the corner of his eye as he exited his apartment building and walked along the street.

He didn't bother hiding his hair today. He felt strangely light, like something good was going to happen. He didn't usually have much emotion, but having this sudden feeling was making him excited. And when he was excited, that usually had something to do with the detective.

Grimmjow walked into the alleys, following his usual route and watched the main roads from there, hidden from open view. He walked past the alley where he had killed a victim and left for the detective to find, and he thought he could still smell the blood. Smirking, he continued down the alley and stopped at the one that faced Aizen's office building. The man looked at it with distaste; he'd been in there before and everything about it reeked of the man's smell. He'd never forget the things the man did to him, treated him like a caged animal and forced him to submission. He felt his own blood boil at the memory and looked away, about to leave when he noticed the familiar shade of orange he'd been waiting for.

"Kurosaki," he muttered out, and for some reason, whether the man actually heard him or not, the detective turned to look at him. Grimmjow couldn't help but grin at getting the man's attention. He mouthed out to the younger man as he slipped back into the shadows of the alleys. "Follow me."

Ichigo stared back, not believing that Grimmjow – the  _Sexta_  – was right there across the street from him. There was no mistaking the sky blue hair and piercing cobalt eyes.

 _Follow him, aibou!_ It screeched at him, and Ichigo felt his legs move. It was another trap, Ichigo was sure. But he knew if he just let him get away, he might not get another chance like this. Again, like a moth attracted to flame, Ichigo followed the Sexta into his den.


	15. Chapter 15

Ichigo followed the blue-haired man quietly, his head abuzz with so many questions, thoughts, that he himself wasn't sure whether they were his own or the others'. He could hear the bleached form giggling in the back of his mind, but felt the comforting presence of the older man as well. He continued the silent walk, keeping the distance between himself and the Sexta the same. Both of them walked at the same pace; neither was in a hurry. In fact, the Sexta seemed as if he was strolling. He appeared so relaxed, so at ease, that Ichigo wasn't sure what to expect. The surprising thing was, he found himself feeling as at ease as the other man.

It was weird, having a lack of anxiety despite the situation. A serial killer, a dangerous man was in front of him, probably plotting to kill him, and yet Ichigo felt normal, as if he was following… a  _friend_. The thought sent chills down his spine.

Was it because they were the same? And due to that they have some undeniable attraction? Ichigo was undoubtedly interested in the Sexta – Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. The blue-haired man too had some special interest in him. It would be stupid to call it 'love' – it was just some dark, twisted, raw attraction. After being a solitude figure so long, to find someone just like him, maybe even more, just stirred something in him. There was almost the feeling of being able to trust since he was able to identify with him.

The white being was definitely excited by what Ichigo was thinking. What  _was_  he thinking? To join Grimmjow? To be led by this madman? As he walked along the alleyways, Ichigo tried to reach out to Zangetsu, but the older man merely watched him quietly.

"Hey," Ichigo called, deciding to try his luck. Grimmjow turned his head a bit, but did not answer. Ichigo took it as a 'what'. "Where are you taking me?" Grimmjow didn't reply either but Ichigo thought he saw him smile. Giving out a sigh of frustration, Ichigo kept walking, and tried talking again. "Why… why did you give me all those clues? Why the special interest in me?"

Grimmjow kept walking, almost as if he was ignoring him. Annoyed, Ichigo called to him again, "Grimmjow."

At that, the man stopped, and so did Ichigo, surprised by the man's response. The blue-haired man turned with a smirk on his lips as he faced him, "Didn't I tell you, Kurosaki? You're a predator just like me." He turned back and resumed walking. Ichigo walked also, trying to catch up, and was about to respond but Grimmjow cut in. "You're a predator, but you'll still just a cub. You have so much to learn. It'll be a waste for you to continue being a lamb."

"What if I'm neither a lion nor a lamb?" Ichigo replied. "Why does it have to be that way?"

"Because it works that way," Ichigo heard Grimmjow growl.

"Who says?"

"The world says! Our instincts says! Our first instinct is to be violent. We were born that way.  _Babies do not kill each other because we do not give them access to knives and guns (1)._ From the very beginning we were aggressive. Why change that fact? It's all just a façade."

Ichigo could tell he was swaying towards the very idea, yet another part of him said no. Was that the work of the bleached being giggling in the back of his mind? Influencing him to listen to the Sexta's reasons and following his path? He went silent, keeping to his thoughts and kept walking, decided to just wonder where the hell he was.

Eventually, they ended up at an apartment building, as white washed as most of the others in Las Noches. Grimmjow led Ichigo into it, bringing them to the third floor via the stairs. By this time, Ichigo could no longer wait. He asked, "Would you mind telling me where we are?" Grimmjow didn't answer, until he stopped at the door at the end of the corridor.

"Can't you tell?" the blue haired man said, unlocking the door and slowly opening it. "This is my den." He smirked and went inside, beckoning Ichigo inside wordlessly. The detective walked right into it, almost entranced, and looked around the apartment as the Grimmjow closed the door behind him.

It was clean, neat, almost strangely so. But the uncanny feeling of how similar it seemed to his own apartment gave Ichigo the shivers. A sudden movement in the corner of his eye had Ichigo whip his head around, only to see a beautiful white cat coming out of the kitchen. The feline looked almost out of place, looking regal and almost so pure with its clean white coat. Its eyes were a bright blue, just like its owner. The cat moved out of the way and disappeared into one of the rooms, letting Ichigo's eyes wander to the kitchen. That was normal too.

Everything seemed normal, but the windows were shut, making the apartment rather stuffy.

But as Ichigo took a few more steps into the apartment, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Blood.

"What's wrong, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asked with a knowing smirk. He sat at the couch comfortably, as if everything was alright. That irked Ichigo. That smug look on the man's face pissed him off.

"So? What the hell did you bring me here for?" Ichigo snarled, glaring at the seated man. Grimmjow merely stared at him, the smirk still on his face but not saying a word. Ichigo grabbed him by the collar and pulled him. "Answer me, Sexta! Did you bring me here just to toy with me? Make me kill someone again?" Grimmjow did nothing, but Ichigo felt something boil inside him for some reason. It must have been that cocky smirk and eyes. He could feel it again, that desire inside to kill and that dark being inside him cackling at the back of his head, as he stared into the man's eyes.

Ichigo didn't expect to be suddenly pushed down though. He grunted as his back hit the floor with a loud thud, Grimmjow pinning him down with his weight by sitting on his torso, hand on his neck and chest. Grimmjow wrapped a hand around Ichigo's neck threateningly, giving a slight but firm squeeze, but Ichigo stared him down defiantly.

"Those eyes… I really hate those eyes of yours," Grimmjow growled, his eyes narrowing, full of hate. His smugness was gone, and he appeared almost intent to kill Ichigo right there. The orange haired man wheezed, his thoughts running as he frantically grabbed at Grimmjow's hand as it slowly tightened its grip on his neck. Grimmjow kept his grip however, and leaned down, until they were almost nose to nose. "But… there's just something about you that drives me insane."

"L-let go..." Ichigo gasped, his eyes locked onto Grimmjow's.

"Come on, bring the Lion out," Grimmjow murmured, lips brushing against Ichigo's, while his free hand ran over the smaller man's chest. Ichigo shivered under his touch, almost gasping at it. His gaze faltered under Grimmjow's intense stare. He could feel that hot feeling now, yet again. Mixed with his lust to kill. Ichigo's nails dug into Grimmjow's skin, scratching the man, but he made no move or motion to show that he even registered it. All Ichigo could see in Grimmjow's eyes were intense, killer desire.

Ichigo gasped when Grimmjow suddenly flicked his tongue out, running it along his upper lip. It felt so strange and animalistic, but somehow Ichigo liked it. He parted his lips in surprise to that, and Grimmjow slipped his tongue in. Ichigo couldn't help but moan, more of in surprise than anything else, but there was that slight pleasure as he felt the wet muscle rub against his. Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, unable to comprehend why Grimmjow was suddenly… kissing him. Was that even kissing? There was a mix of teeth and feral growls, more like animals fighting than really kissing.

He responded to these kisses though, fighting back with harsh bites and groans, his hands scratching at Grimmjow's arms and shoulders. They were there, wrestling on the floor, kissing and scratching, biting and clawing. And soon they were throwing out punches and kicks. If Ichigo was sane, he would've just kneed the bastard in the balls and run out and call for back up. But when was he really? Here he was, enjoying this strange, almost intimate brawl with Grimmjow, enjoying the sting of pain and the taste of blood in his mouth.

And fuck, he was so damn hard from this. Even as they were wrestling, ever y little movement the other made excited him. The brushes against his crotch were a tease, and Ichigo moaned and panted, licking his lips as he threw another punch to Grimmjow. He felt himself grin when he felt his fist land onto the other's man's cheek and felt even more excited when he saw the bruise he left with the blood dripping from Grimmjow's lips.

 _Enjoying yourself, aibou?_  The creature said gleefully.  _Lemme in on the fun too… We can enjoy him together_. Ichigo felt fuzzy at that brief moment, and that left him open. Grimmjow tackled him, once again pinning him to the floor. He ground his hips against Ichigo's, and this time Ichigo didn't hold back that moan. He did however, felt embarrassed, and glared at the other man.

"Ne, Kurosaki. Is this all you've got?" Grimmjow said with that cocky smirk as he stared Ichigo down. "You want to know why I brought you here?" He deliberately kept quiet for a moment, to listen to the detective's angry breathing. He leaned down lower. "The weak is eaten by the strong. Prove to me you're strong. Or I will eat you." Grimmjow grinned. "And not in the way many people would like." He chuckled and pulled back, drawing his knife from his pocket.

Ichigo's eyes darted to the knife. Fuck, what was he thinking all this while? He'd almost forgotten that Grimmjow was The Sexta. As Grimmjow raised the blade, Ichigo punched him hard in the gut and knocked the knife out of Grimmjow's hand. All the way Grimmjow was laughing as they wrestled and tackled. It was almost never ending, as if neither of them wanted to stop, just like their first brawl. Seeing the knife however, had knocked some sense into Ichigo, and he tried to get to the knife.

When he finally got to his feet and braced the knife in front of him towards Grimmjow, the man looked disappointed. "Giving up so fast?" he said, looking directly at Ichigo, as if not acknowledging the weapon. Ichigo stared at him.

"What do you mean giving up? I have your knife," Ichigo said, raising the knife higher to prove his point.

"So? Aren't you going to kill me?" Grimmjow replied.

"Why would I do that? I'm here to arrest you," Ichigo growled, still catching his breath.

"Still lying to yourself, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow said, looking angry now. Ichigo stepped back.

"I'm not lying to myself, this is who I am," Ichigo shouted back stubbornly, gripping the handle of the blade tightly. Grimmjow snarled at him and took a step forward, completely ignoring the knife.

"A lion persistently believing himself to be a lamb? What we did earlier… you enjoyed it didn't you?" Ichigo looked away momentarily. He was aware of that, and can still feel his raging hard on. The blood looked so nice on him… "Listen, Detective. The weak dies, the strong survives. That is how the world works, even in studies, in business, in stories. Stop being weak, Ichigo!"

Grimmjow lunged at him, the blade cutting into Grimmjow's hand as he knocked it off Ichigo's hold. He threw Ichigo against the wall, raining down blows on the younger male. Ichigo coughed and groaned, spitting out blood when Grimmjow stopped finally. The man was really angry now, no longer teasing or smirking. He pulled Ichigo up by the collar.

The blue haired man's hand was bleeding badly, but Grimmjow didn't pay any attention to it, glaring down at Ichigo. The lighting in the room had dimmed, as Ichigo barely realized that night had fallen outside. He could hardly move from all the hard hits he got, his whole body aching, and he was sure he had a few fractured bones. The Sexta was strong. No one wonder some victims were barely alive before he slaughtered them. Ichigo hazily looked up at the other man.

"Tsk," Grimmjow hissed. "I really, really hate those eyes of yours," he growled and threw Ichigo back into the floor. "The Lion I was looking for seems to be just a lie. All I see is just a front, still mocking me when you've already been beaten down." He turned to get the knife that lay on the ground before turning back to Ichigo. "Well, Kurosaki… it's been fun."

 _Aibou…_  the voice inside sighed, as if Ichigo had just made a petty mistake.  _I told you to let me join in the fun. Now looks like we're in trouble._

'Shut up!' Ichigo yelled at his inner thoughts. 'I don't need you!'

 _Doesn't look that way, aibou. Look, we're going to be prey for him. I don't mind him though_ , the being chuckled.  _He's just proof that he's the predator we've always wanted to be._

'Shut. Up.' Ichigo weakly struggled as Grimmjow pressed him to the floor face down, the cool metal of the blade against his throat. 'Shit, shit…'

 _And you were being such a hero to your friends. You're weak, Ichigo. Just like what he said. And us dying proves it_ , the bleached being said.  _Move aside, I'll take over from_  –

"SHUT. UP!" Ichigo screamed, somehow managing to wriggle his arm free and elbow Grimmjow in the side. Ichigo grabbed for the knife this time, quickly scrambled onto the momentarily stunned Sexta. Knowing Grimmjow was physically stronger than him, Ichigo did the first thing his instinct told him to.

"Fuck-!" Grimmjow groaned, completely taken unaware when Ichigo stabbed him in the shoulder and held the blade there. "D-damn, Kurosaki…" he smirked up at the younger male, who stared down at him with golden eyes. "Finally… I wanted to see that."

"Shut up. I am not weak," Ichigo said, his voice low and dangerous. It only made Grimmjow grin.

"You're going to show who's stronger now? Or are you just going to stop here? Because this isn't enough to stop me, Kurosaki," Grimmjow said, and began to move, but Ichigo stopped him by twisting the knife in the wound. Grimmjow howled and paused to breathe heavily. "Fucker…"

"I am not weak, I've proven this to you now, haven't I?" Ichigo asked. "Just stop… we can do this another time, but for now, just let me arrest you." Grimmjow's other hand covered his eyes as a grin formed on his lips.

"You're going to arrest me? Stop fucking with me! Only the strong lives and the weak dies, and this will never end, until one of us does, and that will be you!" Grimmjow growled and moved again, grabbing for Ichigo's neck. Ichigo gasped for breath, but held onto the knife that was still imbedded in Grimmjow's shoulder.

Need help~? The white creature taunted again.

'Help… or get the fuck out of my head!' Ichigo thought he saw the bleached reflection of himself grin and 'enter' his body. Feeling a strange rush of power, he glared at Grimmjow and twisted the blade again, making the man's grip weaken, and took that opportunity to pull it out and stab him again in the chest with a yell.

Grimmjow's expression was a mix of shock and pain as the blade ran through his chest. He looked to Ichigo in disbelief, before it softened into realization and resignation. He fell back onto the floor, the knife stuck in the middle of his chest. Ichigo stared at him, whatever just happened still trying to sink in. He shakily stood up and looked over at the fallen man. A large pool of blood was starting to form under him.

The Sexta was slowly dying, despite what could've been a quick death. His blue eyes looked to Ichigo, and for the first time Ichigo thought it looked human. The ends of his lips curled into a smirk as his eyes faded into a dead stare. Even in death, Grimmjow was still sinfully attractive, a deception and a fatal temptation. This man was everything Ichigo wanted. Blood, sex and desire.

Ichigo took several steps back and ran to the nearest window, where he opened it and immediately emptied his stomach contents. For some reason… he felt so much sorrow.

"Hey! Everything alright in there?" Ichigo almost jumped at the sudden shouting and banging at the front door. "Hey! I heard shouting in there! You alright man? Hey, if you don't answer I'm going to call the police!" Ichigo sighed. It must be the neighbours, he thought to himself. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated too, and Ichigo walked around Grimmjow's body, staggering to the kitchen before he finally answered.

"H-hello..?"

"Ichigo! Do you know how fucking worried we were?" Renji yelled at him through the phone. "Where the fuck are you?" Ichigo just laughed shakily as he sank to the floor. He could feel the aches and pains coming back in full force.

"You won't believe it… I… just killed him," Ichigo replied almost quietly.

"What? Who did you k- " Renji stopped, before he said the word too loud, and whispered this time. "Who did you kill? Is it another Sexta victim?"

"No… I killed him. The Sexta," Ichigo replied again, but his voice cracked.

"That's… that's great, Ichigo! That's – Ichigo? Are you… crying?" Renji asked. Ichigo shook his head and rubbed his eyes, but was still sniffling. He didn't even know why he was crying. He could hear Rukia in the background. She sounded well, and that made him feel better at least.

"Shut up, idiot… I'm not… Just get here. I think I have a few broken bones."

"Oh right, shit. Give me the address."

Ichigo didn't know where exactly he was, and was too exhausted to move from his spot in the kitchen. Besides, that neighbour had probably called the police anyway. He just described to Renji the apartment building, though knowing full well that all the buildings in Las Noches looked fairly the same. Once Renji got all the info, Ichigo closed his cell and sighed.

Something white moved in the corner of Ichigo's eye and he saw the white cat again. It moved to him and meowed, rubbing itself against Ichigo's arm. "Sorry about your owner…" He caught sight of the engraving on the cat's tag. "…Pantera." The cat meowed again and moved away from the kitchen. It turned its head back and meowed again, as if calling Ichigo. A little curious, Ichigo slowly stood up and made his way back to the living room.

"W-What?" Ichigo couldn't believe his eyes. The body was gone. The cat stepped over the large pool of blood and meowed at Ichigo again, before it ran and jumped out of the window. "Wa-wait!" Ichigo shouted, dragging himself to the open window. The cat had vanished. Along with Grimmjow's body and his knife. All that was left was the large pool of blood. Ichigo shook and held his head. "What… Am I going insane?"

 _Since when were you ever sane, aibou?_  The bleached being cut in, mockingly.

"Shut up! What the hell's going on here?"

_I don't know, but I have some guesses…_

"If you know something, tell me!"

_There are just some things in the world… that we don't know._

"What the hell does that mean? What do you…" Ichigo suddenly began to feel dizzy. He only managed a few steps forward before he fell to the floor, and darkness filled his vision.

_Goodnight for now, aibou._


	16. Chapter 16

Ichigo awoke in a hospital, sitting up and groaning as pain jolted through his body. He felt aches and stings almost everywhere as he tried to move, and felt someone push him back onto the bed. His vision was still hazy then, looking around almost blindly to see who it was. "Ichigo! Lie down!" the familiar voice of Rukia reprimanded him. Ichigo's eyes widened and cleared up, finally looking clearly at the face of his best friend.

"Rukia?" Ichigo attempted to sit up again but the small woman remained firm, pushing him back.

"Keep quiet and lie down, Ichigo! You're still not fully recovered!" Rukia chided. Ichigo took a good look at her again. She was still in patient's clothing, and had bandages around her, but she looked better, and that made Ichigo relieved.

"Rukia… you're fine," Ichigo said dumbly. How long had he been out cold?

"Idiot, of course I'm fine!" Rukia grinned smugly. "Now stay there and recover. I'm getting Renji here."

Ichigo nodded and finally settled down, feeling the aching of his body again. He had just woken up from probably a brief comatose, but he still felt so tired. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as he tried to remember what was going on before he found himself in the hospital ward. Blurred visions of his last memory flashed by in his mind's eye as he tried to recall them.

Blood… a white cat… Grimmjow…? What happened? Where did he go? How did he disappear with a chest wound like that? Was he just hallucinating all those while? Was he really insane, all this while? Was that white being in his head right? Zangetsu... Ichigo said the name in his head, trying to reach his older persona, but got no response. In fact, he felt a little bare; the presences in the back of head seemed to have disappeared. Ichigo suddenly felt alone.

The very thought of made him frown. But Grimmjow's name continued to linger in his mind. Completely lost and getting even more fatigued from the mix of emotions, Ichigo blinked his eyes open. For a moment, Ichigo thought the person in front of him was the blue-haired man himself, but another blink cleared his vision and Renji and Rukia were there standing by his bed. Ikkaku and Yumichika were right by them.

"Yo, Ichigo, haven't you had enough sleep? Wake up already!" Renji said, a stupid grin on his face. He looked visibly relieved too, like the rest of them were.

"I know beauty sleep is important, but three days is a little too much don't you think?" Yumichika added playfully. He held a small bouquet of flowers with a Get Well card which he placed at Ichigo's bed side. Ichigo smiled gratefully in return.

"You snooze, you lose, Ichigo," Ikkaku said, and Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle. He hadn't felt at ease like this in a while. Not after all that had happened.

"Thanks, guys…" Ichigo uttered with a small smile. "But what about... what happened when I blacked out…?"

The atmosphere suddenly grew rather tense and awkward the moment Ichigo asked the question. The group looked at each other, looking unsure themselves. The silence hung over them for a minute, before Rukia broke the silence, "We don't exactly know, since we weren't there until you were brought to the hospital. I was here still recovering though I wanted to go see you... All I knew was that you were beat up pretty bad."

"When we got there all we found was that it was the Sexta's hideout," Renji continued once Rukia finished. "The officers who arrived on scene told us they found you by the pool of blood and thought you were dead. But from the forensics and all, the blood wasn't yours, and we found body parts and organs of more victims we don't know about. But other than that, nothing much. I think Urahara-san will tell you more when he comes by later. He's still busy in the office."

Urahara? Ichigo thought and felt himself nod. Yeah, he needed to see his mentor and demand an answer for everything.

It was then that the door to his private ward opened and Byakuya entered. The investigation team stiffened and cleared the way immediately, the 6th district captain's presence immediately making the atmosphere even tenser than it was. And speaking of the devil, Urahara entered right behind him, wearing a tired smile.

"Good to see you're conscious, Kurosaki-san," Urahara greeted. Ichigo smiled back, but found it hard to with the other man staring at him.

"Rukia, shouldn't you be resting?" was the first thing Byakuya said, his eyes looking to the petite woman with a rare hint of concern. "And the rest of you should be doing work. We need to discuss things with Kurosaki Ichigo privately."

Renji seemed to want to say something, but Ikkaku and Yumichika stopped him, much to Ichigo's relief. Renji could get loud when he wanted to be and he wasn't keen on hearing it at the moment. Rukia rose and gave a slight nod to her older brother and Urahara. "We'll see you later, Ichigo," she said with a small smile before leaving the room with the others, dragging Renji along.

Ichigo sighed once the others left, giving a tired glance at his superiors. He wasn't in the mood for questions, especially not from Byakuya. "Can't you at least let me rest first before questioning me?"

"I'd rather not wait," Byakuya replied curtly. "You're cleared of any suspicion of relation to the Sexta."

The little piece of news didn't sink in immediately. Ichigo stared at the black haired captain for a while longer before he blinked. "I'm cleared? Nothing at all?"

"The only trouble you're getting is for being reckless and letting the Sexta escape," Byakuya said coolly, looking annoyed at the thought of the fugitive.

"Oh..." Ichigo merely replied, looking down at his hands. He felt relieved, but also odd, like something just didn't felt right. He looked up to the captains again. "So... he does exist right? The Sexta. It wasn't me? And nobody caught him yet?"

This time Urahara replied with a shake of his head. "No, it's not you, Kurosaki-san. And unfortunately whatever we got from the apartment led to nothing but body parts that were left. We've gone through his apartment and collected all the evidence. All we need left is your account on what happened, and I'm afraid it can't wait. The longer we drag this, the further he'd have escaped from us."

Both Byakuya and Urahara took their seats and looked expectantly at Ichigo, as if it was going to be a long story and that made Ichigo groan. "Do I have to do a report too?" Ichigo asked and Urahara's apologetic face gave away the answer immediately. With a sigh, Ichigo leaned back in his bed and slowly recounted his experience. He gave a generic recount of the events, making sure to omit certain details, the feelings and the intimate conversations he had with Grimmjow. Those were for himself.

But even as Ichigo heard himself speak, he realized there was really nothing there that could help them lead to him. All they did was, technically, have dinner and an intimate fight that ended in a bloody mess.

Once Ichigo was done, a silence hung over them. Ichigo let his words sink in, still too tired to be bothered of what he said would mean to the captains. From how he had retold his experience, it was of curiosity and self-defence, or at least what he hoped it would be to Byakuya. Said captain had a pensive look and said nothing for a while, whereas Urahara looked concerned and strangely surprised.

"We'll have to look up on this suspect. I want you to turn in all your findings, whatever they are. The last I checked it seems that an old profile was missing from the archives," Byakuya said the first one to break the silence. Ichigo tried hard not to give a reaction, watching as the younger captain glanced at Urahara. "We'll need that report, and I expect the report by the end of this week Kurosaki, to your captain. We can't wait until you're discharged from the hospital. That's all I came here for. I wish you a speedy recovery." Ichigo nodded, accepting that mechanical response as Byakuya just being himself. The ebony haired captain rose and glanced at Urahara once again before he stepped out of the room. "And don't do anything else that compromises the case anymore, Urahara Kisuke. The Captain Commander has been lenient."

Urahara just flashed his usual grin and stayed behind as the other captain left, not moving from his seat until he was sure Byakuya had left. He leaned forward towards Ichigo, elbows on his knees. "Kurosaki-san," he began finally, after a minute of what seemed like a minute of deep thinking, looking serious, "...The Sexta is the same Jaegerjaquez?"

Ichigo stared at Urahara, greatly reminded that the man had played a large part in this whole mess, even if it was unintentional and in the past. "Yeah..." Ichigo muttered, looking at his hands. He was still confused as to what happened that time. Things happened so fast and the situation changed so drastically that Ichigo still couldn't quite believe it. How did Grimmjow disappear with a fatal wound like that? Was he immortal or something? How many times did that guy die? If he even died? And what was all that intimacy? Was it all just a spur of the moment? The questions continued to flood Ichigo's thoughts.

"...I see..." Urahara answered wearily.

"Urahara-san... just tell me what's going on," Ichigo said, slowly, looking into the eyes of the older man. He pleaded with him silently, just feeling so exhausted from this wild goose chase. Urahara didn't speak for a moment, but then sighed as he shifted from his seat to the one nearer to Ichigo.

"...Grimmjow was... a suspect for the murders of two girls. It was an infamous case because of the nature of the murder, and that the suspect was only said to be a juvenile," Urahara replied, elbows on his knees. "He was sent to be mentally evaluated, by Aizen. And Aizen declared him mentally ill, and Grimmjow didn't stand for trial and became his patient instead. I was in charge of the case and to look out for the boy... Grimmjow. I knew of his background, and he just looked like any rebellious teen, but I guess I underestimated him. Aizen underestimated him. I never knew the reason for the murders."

"Grimmjow did a lot to escape, " Urahara continued, "he even almost killed one of the workers in the hospital, but he got away with it with Aizen covering for him. It was unusual, for a doctor to cover for a patient that aggressive so I started to investigate Aizen..." Urahara trailed off, seemingly hesitating. Ichigo clenched at his sheets, eagerly waiting for his captain to continue. Said captain continued but began to speak softer, though still audible enough for Ichigo to hear. "What I found... wasn't really pleasant at all. There were evidences of his abuse of his status. I think, he even brainwashed some of his patients."

"Brainwashed..?" Ichigo's eyes went wide. He thought about Nelliel, who seemed to admire Aizen so much.

"I don't know, but there have been a list of misdiagnosis, overdoses and the like that have been quietly looked over. It seems that has connections with the government that didn't allow us to do anything about it."

"And yet you still sent me to him?"

"Because I'm keeping an eye on him. And so is your father," Urahara replied. "He's still watching out for you, even if he's not in the country, you know? Aizen knew we kept an eye on him ... he has been behaving all the while even before you were sent to him." Ichigo wasn't sure of that though, and it sounded as if the man was just reassuring himself. "Anyway, it's because of Aizen – and I guess, me too – that Grimmjow is out there. Apparently his escape ten years ago was successful."

 

"The report said suicide by pills," Ichigo interrupted.

"Yes... But frankly, even I'm not sure whether Aizen forced the pills on him because Grimmjow wanted to rat him out, or if Grimmjow really attempted suicide. But since his body is missing, I guess, it was an escape attempt to," Urahara sighed, looking weary from the memory. "I guess it worked. His body went missing in the morgue, but people just thought his body got stolen. And with Aizen's connections, anything about it was quickly hushed and the case was dropped. The cold case murder of the two girls remained unsolved. And that... is all I know about Grimmjow. The rest, you should know, or Aizen does..."

Ichigo let that sink for a moment. Have all his questions been answered? After a little more empty chatter, Urahara left, and Ichigo remained quiet for the rest of the day. Ichigo wondered what he was going to do once he was out of the hospital, since the case now was considered closed. The voices in his head remained silent for the rest of his stay in the hospital.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ichigo was fully recovered after a month, discharged with a clean bill of health. He had returned to work immediately since and everything carried on as usual for another two weeks. Of course, once in a while, people continued their rumours, stealing glances at Ichigo and muttering the ever familiar name of the Sexta. Ichigo could care less about it though; he had other things to do than to worry about them. He continued his work smoothly and nobody dared to say anything more because he was good at what he did.

Rukia and Renji, though had to pack up to return to their own precincts because the case was officially over, kept their eye on him. They were always looking out for him like the great friends they were, along with Ikkaku and Yumichika, who had gone back to their previous positions as well. Urahara carried on like nothing ever happened too. There was no sight of Byakuya as well. Things felt like they had returned to normal, but there was always the lingering feeling of caution around him. Perhaps with time, they would all completely forget? Could anyone really forget the Sexta? Even the news didn't disclose the name of the real killer. They weren't allowed to say the full story. Besides, what would they say about a serial killer who'd lost so much blood yet still got away? It was best that they were left with a simple story, and carry on and forget about it.

Ichigo knew he couldn't. Grimmjow was a memory he'd never forget. Even after a month, he was still haunted by dreams of the man. His scent, his voice, his touches – once in a while they'd creep into his dreams, bringing him to full arousal whenever he recounted their intimate confrontation.

Occasionally, Ichigo went back to Las Noches and visited the man at the pawn shop who called himself Hirako Shinji. The man was always rather queer to him, with his wide grin, but nevertheless a nice friend to have. He also met with Nelliel, who had also visited him while he was in the hospital. Once in a while they would talk over coffee, and it was always quite obvious that though she was curious, she tried to steer away from the topic about Grimmjow. Everyone stayed clear of the topic.

Ichigo wondered if all he needed was a good talk about it. He'd even visited Grimmjow's apartment, but it had been emptied and cleaned, not trace of the man's presence or even the blood that had stained the floor. It was as empty as he was. Sometimes he wished he knew how to contact Zangetsu again, because he felt like the older persona of him would understand. But he hadn't heard any voices for a long time, and as weird and crazy as it sounded, he felt terribly insecure and empty without them. Yes, he even almost missed the white being's distorted voice. Ichigo tried not to think about as he walked along the empty, almost barren streets of Las Noches.

When he finally got back to his own district, he found himself standing across Aizen's building. He stares at the entrance, wondering if he should take a look inside. He hadn't been there ever since the last incident and he hadn't seen Aizen either. With what he learned about the man from Urahara, was it a good idea to see him? After a few moments of pacing around, Ichigo finally took the first step towards the building.

He got off the lift to the usual floor, and was greeted by Hinamori who was surprised by his appearance. "Oh! Kurosaki-san! I heard what happened – I'm sorry, but, Aizen-san…" the receptionist sputtered, flustered by his sudden visit.

"It's okay, I'm not really here for-" Ichigo wanted to say, but the door to Aizen's office opened and the man himself stepped out. He didn't make much of a sound or reaction when he saw Ichigo, just a raised eyebrow, his usual smile and a nod. "…Aizen."

"I'm glad to see you have recovered, Kurosaki-kun," Aizen said and beckoned Ichigo to his office. The younger man went in, but kept his guard up. He didn't bother to sit, not planning to stay long anyway. Besides, just being around the man already irked him, and he could finally feel the presence in the back of his head again. "How have you been?" the man asked as he closed the door behind him.

"I don't need your empty formalities. I'm just here to know what you did to Grimmjow ten years ago," Ichigo snapped, straight to the point. Aizen stared at him, his smile wiped off his face, leaving Ichigo with a strange sense of accomplishment. He didn't say a word, but went straight to his desk and sat, where he propped up his elbows on the surface, fingertips together.

"I assume you've heard from Urahara Kisuke, then?" Aizen asked with an undertone of distaste. He didn't wait for Ichigo to answer. "Grimmjow was my patient, yes. And a very difficult one at that. He's one of the most violent patients I had despite his young age. Urahara sent him to me for evaluation and I took him under my wing. Nothing wrong with that. It was unfortunate he took his life. I didn't see that his outward violent tendencies were also inward. I was still quite a new doctor. Those were my rookie mistakes."

Ichigo restrained the urge to roll his eyes, having a strong feeling the man was bullshitting him, as usual. "Are you to say that you weren't the one who forced the pills on him?" Aizen gave a slight, unamused smile.

"I am a doctor, Kurosaki-kun," he said. "And no, I only forced pills on him to sedate and calm him down. As I said, Grimmjow was a violent patient. I had to do what I had to do."

"Grimmjow wouldn't kill himself," Ichigo muttered, feeling the bleached being in his head stir, apparently as annoyed with the doctor as he was.

"How would you know that?" Aizen asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Just tell me, what you know about Grimmjow – your patient from ten years ago," Ichigo hurriedly switched subjects, not wanting to give anything away. Aizen regarded him for a moment but answered anyway.

"He was a juvenile with issues, obviously. He was sent to me for his violent tendencies after being in that assault case Urahara was looking at. I diagnosed him as a sadistic psychopath," Aizen replied, straight faced. "It's not very dissimilar from the diagnosis I initially had for you. Is that why you're interested in him?"

Ichigo frowned at that additional comment, not sure what to think of it. "I just wanted to know what happened to him."

"In the end he committed suicide with pills, due to my carelessness. That is all," Aizen concluded, and didn't seem to want to say more. Ichigo stared at him with a scowl.

"Why did you even begin to be a psychiatrist, Aizen?" Ichigo asked bluntly. This time, Aizen gave a wider smile.

"I'm just interested in how people… like you," Aizen paused with his smile, baring a little bit of teeth, "tick." Ichigo glared at him, hating that double meaning in those words. He didn't even say goodbye as he turned to leave, slamming the door behind him. He ignored Hinamori calling out to him too, and just stormed off. He was just so sure that Aizen was the one behind Grimmjow's attempted suicide, but there were so many questions left unanswered, but they could only be answered by the man himself.

Tired and frustrated, Ichigo went home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ichigo, you should get a girlfriend," Renji and Rukia suddenly said while they were having lunch in the office. They had some free time and had come back from their own stations to check on Ichigo despite the distance.

"What?" Ichigo blinked, bewildered by the sudden question.

"Girlfriend," Rukia repeated, exasperated by Ichigo's reaction. "You've been so out of sorts lately. You need someone. A girl, to be exact."

"You're a girl," Ichigo said dumbly. Renji snapped at him defensively.

"I mean – we mean, a lover!" the red haired man quickly said. "When was the last time you had a girlfriend? Never? You need to relax, Ichigo, especially after… you know…" Ichigo immediately frowned at that, as Rukia elbowed Renji in the gut.

"We just think you need some proper company? You know, Inoue's a nice girl..."Rukia started, referring to the sales assistant from the cake shop they frequented, mainly because Rukia dragged him there. But he hardly knew Inoue, even if she was a nice girl and was very attractive. The girl stuttered and blushed too much around him it was hard to communicate.

"No… I'm just not interested, guys," Ichigo smiled apologetically. "'sides, I have my work to keep me busy."

"See? You're married to your work!" Renji sighed. "Not to be invasive of your private life or anything but do you even mastur-" Rukia had smacked Renji before he even completed the sentence. Ichigo blushed, knowing what Renji was about to say but didn't reply.

"If you ever change your mind, Ichigo, I'm leaving her number here," Rukia said, leaving a piece of paper with Inoue's number scrawled on it. Ichigo glanced at it, paying not much heed, but thanked the petite woman as she dragged Renji away. "See you later Ichigo! Don't overwork yourself again!" Ichigo smiled at that and continued on with his work, the idea his best friends had planted floating in his mind somewhere. Only when his shift was over, did he really think about it.

Ichigo stared at the piece of paper with the set of numbers on it for a while, wondering if he'd actually do anything with it. It would be awkward to call her suddenly. Instead, he took the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket as he packed his stuff.

The young detective wasn't ready to go home though. As he walked out of the station he wondered where he could go to waste some time. He decided the airport was a place he hadn't been to in a while and headed out there via a taxi. He used to visit it often as his dad and sisters usually travelled because of Isshin's work schedule. This time, because they were both busy, Isshin couldn't visit him as much. He missed his family dearly, and smiled a little at the thought of them as he leaned back in the back seat of the taxi.

Once there, Ichigo revisited all the places they used to go, as the airport itself was like a tourist attraction. It actually reminded Ichigo a little like a crystal palace, with a sleek, all-glass look. Of course, over the years, it had changed a lot, with renovations making it appear more modern. Either way, Ichigo liked it, as long as it had remnants of the past look. After a quick lunch from a café, he made his way to the departure terminal, just to observe the people who were about to board the plane. His dad used to point out the different people; those who were first time travellers would appear excited, while those who were used to it appeared calm or even bored.

He sat at a nearby bench, watching and observing the people go by. How long had it been since he was this serene? Everything was quiet, save for the soft chatter of the travellers. And there was no voice to mock him either. No, he didn't have the urge to kill anymore…

Ichigo sighed and smiled to himself. He leisurely scanned the area, admiring the view of people chatting with each other, with families and friends. He didn't expect to catch the familiar shade of a certain colour in the corner of his eye. Ichigo almost did a double take and searched for it.

No. It couldn't be…

_Could it?_

Even if it was him, what was he doing there?

Ichigo promptly jumped to his feet, looking around for that bright shade of blue again. Suddenly he was on edge, and he could feel the other him pacing about restlessly in the back of his head. He felt his legs move, bringing him forward to the other end of the terminal, heading for the car park. Was that where he was?

The young detective slammed the door open. It was late at night, so there weren't many cars, and it was almost completely deserted. The lights were dim as well, as Ichigo stepped to the middle of the large space, trying to peek around the corners and walls. Was he just hallucinating? Did he really want to see Grimmjow that much?

Ichigo was just about to laugh it off and walk away when he was suddenly pressed against the nearest wall face first. The situation was all too familiar.

"You-!" Ichigo tried to speak, but whoever it was, was gripping the back of his neck too tightly. And then he was flipped around, his back slammed to the wall instead with his arms pinned to his side and above his head, with a larger body pushed against his. The next thing he knew, the person was kissing him, familiarly rough and violent. Teeth with sharper canines nibbled harshly at his lips, drawing blood and eliciting a moan out of Ichigo, who already knew who it was as he responded to the kiss with similar ferocity. This familiar taste and scent belonged to no one else but  _him_.

The colour of bright blue flooded his vision when they finally broke the kiss. Ichigo had to lick his bloodied lips as he looked up to his attacker. Ichigo squinted before he could really focus, and then there it was – the set of icy, bright blue eyes that he had been searching for was staring right at him. The Sexta's sharp, handsome features were the same, and he didn't look like he almost died a month ago. Was this really Grimmjow? Just seeing the man once was taking away his breath and sanity. All questions he had for the man gone in an instance. Ichigo's instincts, however, immediately took over and assessed the situation. Though still overpowered, he was quite relieved that Grimmjow didn't have his knife out. But that didn't mean he didn't have it with him. Grimmjow could still kill him if he wanted to.

"What's the matter, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow finally spoke, grinning wildly. "Ya look like you've just seen a ghost."

"I thought you were dead!" Ichigo snapped back, breathing starting to quicken as he stared back defiantly into those cold blue orbs. "You… how? This isn't the first time you escaped death. Just... what are you?" Grimmjow didn't seem fazed by his outburst at all, merely shrugging in response.

"To be honest, I have no idea myself. But ya know what they say, evil men live longer lives. I'd like to think I have nine. Extra lives are very handy, ya know…" Grimmjow said casually, as if he was having a simple conversation with Ichigo. He didn't loosen his grip at all though, with his fingers digging painfully into Ichigo's wrists, his larger body still pinning Ichigo to wall. "So… did ya miss me, Kurosaki?"

The question made Ichigo stiffen, and the other man immediately knew the answer, his grin growing impossibly wide. Ichigo broke eye contact, out of embarrassment and humiliation. "Aren't you going to kill me now that you have me?" Ichigo asked, his voice wavering.

"Kill you? No… no," Grimmjow murmured, his face incredibly close to Ichigo's. "You've proven yourself to me… I want to see more. I want to see more of that monster in you." Ichigo could feel himself redden, from both the man's words and the close proximity. "How did you feel when you thought you killed me, Kurosaki? There was adrenaline, excitement, satisfaction… right?"

Ichigo's eyes snapped back to the blue haired man's, his eyes wide and gleaming gold. He trembled slightly, the voice in his head screaming ' _YES YES_   _YES_ '. "Yes…" Ichigo managed to slip out.

"I can show you more," Grimmjow continued, his voice low and husky and filled with promise. Ichigo shuddered and closed his eyes. Pain seeped in again as Grimmjow tightened his grip on him. "I can show you all that you've ever wanted, Kurosaki. We had fun, didn't we? Hey, if you're lucky, you might really be the one to kill me, too."

Grimmjow's lips ghosted over Ichigo's cheek as the younger man turned away, gritting his teeth to not let out a cry of pain. He was sure his wrists were bleeding now. The words Grimmjow spoke were so sinful and tempting; the white being was still screaming in his head, yelling and almost begging Ichigo to let them join him.

 _Dammit, Ichigo, this is what we are! If you let it go now, you will never be true yourself, you fucking hypocrite!_ The creature screeched in his head.

"What… what are you even doing here in the first place," Ichigo managed to groan out, not giving in to the pain and temptation.

"You should already know. There's no point for me to stay here any longer," Grimmjow replied, eyes still fixed on his. "You haven't replied to me, Kurosaki. This is the last time I will be asking." His voice was low and serious, and Ichigo just looked back at him, both scared and confused, his thoughts racing.

"I…" Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, eyes still wide and staring at Grimmjow, who was now poker faced as he waited for Ichigo's answer. Images of his family, friends and his late mother flashed before him amidst the screaming of the white creature in his inner World. Was this really what he wanted? He'd been denying himself all this while. It was his chance to be free! But… Yuzu, Karin, even the old man. Not to mention Rukia and Renji… His mouth was dry and he could barely taste the dried blood on his lips as he tried to talk. "…I can't."

Grimmjow's face didn't change except for the furrowing of his brows. This silence hung over them for what seemed like a long time.

"I figured," was all he said before he threw Ichigo to the ground and delivered a hard kick to Ichigo's gut. "Ya make me sick," he spat, but Ichigo thought he sensed bitterness in those words as he curled up and coughed from the pain. His vision was slightly blurred as he looked up at the silhouette of the Sexta looming over him.

"But… I won't kill you now," he heard Grimmjow say, his face no longer amused. "Not now, but maybe later, you'll come to your senses." He crouched down in front of Ichigo, who was still reeling from pain, and cupped his chin roughly. His thumb pressed at Ichigo's bleeding cut on his lip, deliberately making it hurt as he pulled Ichigo's face to his.

"Remember my name, Kurosaki. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," the Sexta drawled against Ichigo's ear, making the younger man whimper. "But pray that you won't ever hear it again, because the next time you do, it will be your last." The Sexta dropped Ichigo to the floor as he stood up. With no other words spoken, he gave Ichigo a last look before he turned to walk away. Ichigo remained where he was, curled up in foetal position on the cold concrete floor with his mind still racing from his decision. He closed his eyes as he listened to the sound of footsteps fading away. Those were the last things he heard from the Sexta. He was really gone, now.

 _Coward_ , he heard his other self hiss at him in distaste. And then the presence disappeared once more. Ichigo was all alone again.

When the chaos in his head finally died down, and the pain in his stomach receded, Ichigo forced himself to sit up and took out his phone. A slip of paper fell out as he did so and it took Ichigo a while to remember what it was. He stared at it for a moment before he picked it up and dialled the number. It didn't take long for the other line to pick up.

"Hey, I'm sorry for calling so suddenly, but… do you want to go for dinner some time?" Ichigo said, almost mechanically, his voice rigid as he spoke despite his pain and beat up appearance. He was just numb and detached now, as if he couldn't even register his emotions. Was it the feeling of being abandoned and betrayal?

But that was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd finally fully denied his other self. He'd chosen a normal life. Everything was going to be alright.


	17. Chapter 17

** _Three years later_ **

Ichigo arranged the files on his desk and sat down with a sigh. Another normal day had passed. He had been promoted to a lieutenant rank for a couple of months now, but Ichigo was busier with more paper work than before. Being under Urahara always helped, though; he could skip a little bit of work here and there because the captain had always been so lenient. Ichigo ran his hand through his hair and sighed, looking around the office to see that it was rather empty. Some of his colleagues had gone home after their shift was over, while others were taking a quick break. The nights at Karakura were usually quite uneventful. His own shift was already over, but he had taken some over time on his own just to sort out his things, tidy up his office, even though there was no need. Rukia and Renji would say that his workaholic habits had gone worse and that he should get help, but seeing how he'd tried getting help last time… He didn't want to think about it.

After that last meeting with the Sexta, life had gone back to normal – or that was what Ichigo told himself. Things definitely changed, though. He had tried to get a normal life, tried dating but that didn't work out. He was grateful that Orihime, Rukia and Renji continued to support him and kept their friendship, even after he'd rejected them and acted so detached. Sometimes he felt undeserving of their company, but without them he'd have gone off worse. Rukia and Renji had gone back to their own precincts after the Sexta case was closed, even though they all knew it wasn't. The higher ups just didn't want any more trouble and the amount of blood there just gave them enough reason to think the Sexta would've died anyway.

Speaking of which, Ichigo never knew how the hell the said man survived that. Was he serious about the nine lives thing? That last meeting they had; the look on the man's face showed that he wasn't joking. Ichigo shook his head and sipped on his coffee, downing the drink and disposed the Styrofoam cup into the bin. Even now, after three years, Ichigo could still remember every word the blue haired man said to him. He still saw him in his dreams, and even hear his voice, sometimes, but Ichigo was sure it was just the other him tricking his mind. He hated himself, being so pathetic. Disgusted with himself on the nights where he'd moan out the other's name as he tried to get it out of his system, pleasuring himself to the thoughts of that man. He still had the branding of the number on his back; a permanent mark on his body. He wished he could cut that part of his body away, but at the same time the thought and feel aroused him, reminding him of the monster that held him and gave him that mark. But he shouldn't be thinking of this. All of it, the thoughts, the lust, the pleasure – they were just tricks of his mind.

Zangetsu and his bleached other self never really spoke to him in the three years after the last meeting with the Sexta. It would sound weird, but it almost felt like they were sulking. Ichigo felt freer now though, being able to control his thoughts (other than those certain lewd ones) and listen only to his own voice. But even with the lack of another voice, there was still the nagging, heavy feeling of the other two's presence in the back of his head, watching his every move, and making him feel almost guilty.

With a heavy sigh, Ichigo took a last look at his tidied office and grabbed his coat and bag, ready to go home. All he wanted was sleep for now, and a slight hoping of dreams of a certain someone. Even after all these years of denial, he'd still think of him. He was starting to accept it. After all, who could forget someone whom he had some sort of twisted, special bond with? No matter how sick and fucked up he was. There was desire and need between them.

Ichigo got back home without incident. He dumped his clothes in the laundry basket and took a short shower. Once he was dry and clothed, he decided to watch some TV, hoping it'd bore him to sleep. Sleep seemed to elude him nowadays, and though he would like to blame most of his problems to his other selves, there was no reason to do so since they didn't even speak to him at all. He coped with the insomnia the best he could, boring himself out of his mind with mundane activities like watching TV or reading romance novels for the hell of it.

As his mind blanked out from the mindless advertisements and infomercials that flashed in front of him, Ichigo was internally arguing with himself. He'd thought about it before; was this life what he really wanted? He had always answered yes, but lately he was getting more and more restless. He could feel Zangetsu and the other white being feeling the same too, but it also felt like they were anticipating something. All the thinking and arguments with himself was making him tired and sleepy fortunately, but the sudden ring of the phone immediately jolted Ichigo awake, almost making him jump out of his seat.

It wasn't uncommon for people to call him at this time of night, but it was usually on his cell phone, not his house phone. Ichigo warily picked up the phone, holding his breath as he muttered out a greeting, as If hoping it was that someone…

"HELLO! MY SON!" the caller practically yelled into the phone, causing Ichigo to pull his ear away from the receiver. Ichigo sighed, from a mix of relief and disappointment. What was he thinking, expecting it to be from him?

"Dad? Do you know how late it is?" Ichigo replied with a chuckle, settling back into his couch again. Even though his father was loud, he was happy to hear from him again. The man rarely called, being a busy senior detective. He was overseas working on a case, and had been there for a couple of years now. Apparently Isshin had taken a liking to the place and so did his sisters, and they ended up living there. Ichigo wasn't sure whether to join them and take a break from the memories Karakura had given him, but at the same time he was still scared of change. His father was probably calling to invite him over again.

"Ohhh! Sorry, sorry! I keep forgetting the time difference!" Isshin said loudly from the other end, even though he'd already called over numerous times. "How are you doing my eldest son? Yuzu's still worried about you! She misses cooking for you! When are you coming to visit?"

"Ah, about that… I already told you, I'm still kind of busy…" Ichigo replied rather weakly; he was never good with lies. He always felt bad though, especially to his sisters. He missed them terribly.

"Tsk tsk, what a useless son I have. I figured you'd say that! So instead I'm going there to see you!" Isshin announced, and Ichigo was sure his father was grinning obnoxiously now.

"Eh? But why..? I mean, not that I object, but what about work? I heard you've got another special case there?" Ichigo asked. He had heard from Urahara who mentioned a new case his father was working on, but was pretty dodgy about the subject.

"Yes, yes, but I'll be there for work too. I'm bringing Yuzu and Karin along, so you're gonna take some days off and go out with them, got it! This is your father's orders!" Isshin chided. Ichigo was speechless for a moment, but ended up laughing. He didn't know why, but he felt grateful he had some excuse to take a break now. He'd be okay if he saw his family again, he assured himself.

"Yeah... That'll be great. When are you guys coming?" Ichigo asked with a smile. Father and son talked through the night, and when his father finally hung up, Ichigo managed to get the first decent sleep in a while, continuously telling himself it was going to be okay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Blood dripped from his knife as he drew it out of the warm body that lay still on the floor. He didn't bother to wipe it off, letting it drip as he walked round and knelt beside it, plunging the blade into the body again. Again and again and again, until the amount of stab wounds destroyed so much of the flesh and some of the bone that the body looked like it had a hole punched through. He kept on going, stabbing the slab of meat until he was satisfied, before he tossed the knife away and proceeded to dig at the flesh with his fingers, tearing it apart until there was nothing left at the core. The body was left with a giant hole in its torso. He breathed in the scent of iron, his dull cold eyes closing as his chest heaved. Sometimes he wondered how such a thing could bring him such gratification, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the act of it, devouring the flesh of the weak ones. The strongest will survive. He was the predator and they were the prey.

But now... there was just something missing. For three years the emptiness had nagged at him. No matter how many he killed, no matter how many times he stabbed, the feeling didn't go away. He wondered if _he_ felt the same way. Had he changed? Has he finally grown out of that stupid naivety from being brought up as a sheep?

Grimmjow chuckled to himself. How ludicrous to find himself thinking about someone else for three years. But he was special, after all. A fellow predator whom he could consider an equal. He had rejected him the last time, but Grimmjow knew he was still in denial. "Stupid brat," he muttered to himself, grinning as he resumed his handiwork, beginning on the branding of the victim. He slowly carved his favourite number on the body, digging out skin and flesh from it to the form of the number six. Pantera meowed from the doorway, her bright blue cat eyes gleaming as she watched, her white fur almost glowing in the dark room.

Maybe he should invite him to another round of play again. He must be lonely now; he'd definitely jump at his invitation. He remembered very vividly, even after three years, that day when he branded him. The smell of his body and his fear, the sound of his pained scream, the golden eyes that gleamed with both horror and anger. All of them still clear and fresh in his mind, the perfect memory to pleasure himself with.

Ah, just thinking of it made him hard. He wondered if _he_ remembered it too? No, he was positive he would. That scar he gave him would never leave his body. Licking his lips he flicked his tongue at the bloodied blade of his knife. Everyone else tasted so horrible compared to his blood now. He glanced at the digital watch on his wrist. 6:16pm. Six, his lucky number. Another good omen. He felt more decided now.

Grimmjow stuffed the body in a large bag and made his way to a deserted alley as usual. Dumping the body against the wall, he took some of the blood there and scratched out a couple of words in the concrete beside the body.

"With this... you'll come and join the hunt again, won't you, Detective?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A couple of weeks after his dad's announcement for visiting, Ichigo was out with his younger sisters, Yuzu and Karin. It turned out that they were only visiting for a couple of days, and that was enough for Ichigo. Being with his family was always great, but that feeling of guilt for having such a dirty secret nagged at him, especially around his father. Isshin didn't join them because he had work to do, and Ichigo knew it was business with Urahara. Being the detective he was, he was itching to investigate what was going on. He couldn't help being interested in this new special case too, since they seemed to be so secretive about it. At least this shopping trip with his sisters was helping him not to think about that man again. Ichigo paid the cashier for the items Yuzu and Karin had bought and let out a loud sigh before he could hold it back.

"I'm sorry for dragging you out, Ichi-niichan," Yuzu said apologetically, while Karin shot him a dirty look as it was obviously rude for him to be doing that.

"No, It's not your fault! I was just thinking about work…" Ichigo replied, half-lying. Karin gave him another dirty look, having seen through it easily.

"We're not stupid, Ichi-nii. We're already going to graduate high school, you know," the sardonic twin pointed out.

"Ah, but it sounded more like a lovesick sort of sigh," Yuzu said thoughtfully. "Are you having love troubles, Ichi-niichan?" This time, both twins grinned at him. "Is it that girl you talked about? Orihime-chan? Or was it Rukia-chan?"

"What? No! Neither of them, they're just friends. Besides, they're too good for your brother," Ichigo said, trying to laugh it off. His sisters wouldn't drop the subject though, as they walked back to his apartment. He wasn't in love, he told himself insistently. Not with a psycho.

Isshin wasn't home when they got back, even though it was evening. It was to be expected he guessed, and Ichigo went to help his sisters with making dinner. He hadn't felt this peaceful in a while, making dinner for his family, laughing with his sisters. He felt normal again. No other voices in his head, no serial killer stalking him, no inner self wanting to go out looking to spill blood.

 _'_ _Did you really think it was the end, aibou?_ '

That voice again.

Ichigo froze up for a moment, but long enough for his sisters to notice.

"Something wrong, Ichi-nii?" Karin asked from the table she was setting. "You look pale…"

"I-I'm fine, I just remembered something," Ichigo reassured them, and just then Isshin entered the apartment, his arrival loud as usual.

"I'm back my children! Did you miss your papa who was working so hard for you~?" the eccentric old man pranced in with his briefcase and coat, totally a sight to see. Ichigo felt something was off despite his father's usual behaviour. He had a bad feeling about something, especially with what his other self had said. It was an omen for sure.

Dinner went on like how it was back then, before his dad and sisters moved. Ichigo tried to enjoy this as much as he could, hold on to the little time of peace and happiness before it'd go back to the restlessness he'd been having, but it was hard to with his other selves being agitated. Something was definitely up for the two to make their presence strongly known after disappearing for a while. He tried not to stare at his father so much, as if expecting something.

Once dinner was done and the dishes washed and cleared, his sisters had gone to bed in his guest room, but his father, who usually joined them to sleep, stayed up for that night. Ichigo being the usual insomniac was both surprised and uncomfortable with that, having someone else not asleep at the time. Isshin was looking through files, borrowing Ichigo's desk. He looked really busy, and Ichigo just stared at his father's back without realizing it, until the older man spoke up.

"Is there something wrong, Ichigo? You've been staring at me since dinner," Isshin said without turning to look at him. "I know your father's handsome and all…"

"Yeah, right," Ichigo snorted, grinning despite himself. He didn't answer to the question for a minute before he did. "What case are you working on for you to come back here and discuss with Urahara-san? You went to see him, didn't you?"

Isshin didn't look up from the files, and neither did he answer him. The long pause almost made Ichigo wonder if he even heard him. "It's another serial killer," Isshin finally replied.

"I figured… I mean, may I know the details, his MO? Maybe I can help-"

"Ichigo, how have you been doing lately?" Isshin cut in, turning around to look at Ichigo eventually. He had a strange expression on his face, meaning that he was serious this time. "I mean, with your condition."

Ichigo stared and gaped at him, having nearly forgotten that his father actually does know about his secret. And he was sure Urahara had reported back to him his movements in the Sexta case. "I'm doing fine…"

"That Aizen… he'd disappeared. Did you know about that?" Isshin was talking conversationally now. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, but I heard it somewhat let you know more about yourself and your other selves right? Though, I'm not trying to pretend I know what you're going through," Isshin said, sounding his age, tired and almost burdened.

"No… it's alright. You're right. I learned some stuff. I don't care about that two-faced doctor anyway," Ichigo replied. He didn't like this conversation, but he was glad to know his father cared. "But what's this about? I was asking about the case."

"Ichigo, no matter what, you're still my son, you know that?" Ichigo really didn't like it now. It was like Isshin knew about him and the Sexta. About how he almost killed a man; his other self killed a man. Ichigo didn't answer him at all and the silence grew heavy between them. Ichigo's other self snickered quietly in the back of his head. "I trust you, Ichigo. So I'll tell you about this case," Isshin spoke up, breaking the few minutes of silence. He smiled a little as he handed a file to Ichigo, who took it slowly.

Ichigo looked through the contents of the file, his eyes scanning through the pictures and the words of the reports, his brain taking in the information that was listed in the papers. His eyes slowly widened as he realized what he was reading, while his bleached self was starting to cackle now. Ichigo looked up to Isshin. "This is…"

"We've found three bodies so far, all with the same MO. We suspect there's more, perhaps he's even selling some organs to the black market there. But the latest victim had that signature six on his back, and some weird message written beside him," Isshin told him, while Ichigo stared at one of the photos of said victims, looking in disbelief. It was a photo of a corpse with a hole in its torso, and that carving of the slanted six by it. His own scar on his back prickled as his eyes stared at the photo. Damn, he shouldn't get hard now. His eyes moved to read the message written in blood - 'The lion in the sheep's skin'.

He could hear his bleached self giggling excitedly. _He's calling us._ "He's… there now?"

"Yes, we think it's him, not a copycat... No, I take that back – it's definitely him. He's calling himself 'Rokuban' there now. Quite obnoxious of him to show himself off, especially since he called himself 'Sexta' here… He must be mocking the police," Isshin rambled on while Ichigo closed the folder and stared hard at the blank cover, his thoughts racing.

 _'_ _Aibou, what are you doing? He's obviously waiting for you… for us. I can almost hear him… we've missed him, haven't we?'_

"Who the hell would miss a psycho bastard like him…" Ichigo mumbled to himself.

"Ichigo?"

 _'_ _Detective. I'm waiting.'_

He could already hear the Sexta's deep voice calling his name, that sharp laugh and that growl he'd make. He could already picture that sadistic grin, that vicious snarl and those bright blue eyes and hair. The memory of the pain of having the man's fists smash into his face, his knee against his gut. All those thoughts made his heart pump, his senses heightened, and making him feel more alive than he'd been the past few years. Desire rose steadily inside him.

 _I want to see him. I want to kill him. I - We'll hold him close and break his bones. We'll make him ours._ He could almost smell the scent of blood…

Ichigo's hands curled into fists as he passed back the folder to Isshin, his expression neutral. "Dad… I want to join the taskforce."

 _'_ _This time…_ **_he's our prey._ ** _'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end, folks. I apologize to anyone who is disappointed in this ending, but this was actually a better one than what I had initially thought of. Do note that I did consider a lot of possibilities, and I have planned this out from the very beginning, but I did not want to create a concrete ending where it's totally happy or totally bad. I feel people will be more disappointed if I chose a concrete ending, because it might clash with what they want, and I myself wouldn't be happy with it. And if I just kept this story going and going, the whole story would have been lost. I'm sorry there's no smut and all, but as I think I've said in earlier chapters, this story wasn't really supposed to have smut.
> 
> I hope I didn't make anyone hate this story in the end! At least we all know they're gonna go through their cat and mouse game once again, and probably again and again until they're tired of it and hook up and live happily ever after, haha! That's all for now. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and supported this fanfiction!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459501) by [kamikaze43v3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r)




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